Raven's Darling
by ladywarlock
Summary: The Great Prophesies do not lie, and when Merlin discovers that his destiny is to rise or raze the Seven Kindoms, things begin spiraling out of control. Princess Gwen as his side, he witnesses the warring kingdoms of Glendale and Camelot attempt to write a peace treaty. But when he meets Morgana, nothing is ever as it appears. AU, Char. Whump
1. Chapter 1

The court was always so cold. So bitter. So desolate. No matter how many colorful garments filled the room, no matter the strength of the perfume that floated off impeccably dressed ladies, the hall lacked warmth. But it wasn't always like this. Not when the baby princess was first born, when nothing could be heard but laughter within the walls of the citadel. Aurora Pendragon was adored from the moment she took her first breath, and the kingdom celebrated the birth of the heir to the throne of Camelot with their sovereigns.

Arthur and Gwenivere Pendragon were never happier.

In celebration of her birth, the King and Queen threw a great party, and as the Court Warlock, Emrys, stood by the cradle, preparing to bestow on the child a blessing, the room grew suddenly frigid. The great doors flew open and from the darkness walked in the High Priestess Morgana. Before anyone could retaliate, she cast a terrible spell on the girl, and Aurora was cursed to an eternal slumber. But Emrys was clever and quick, retaliating with another, so that true love's first kiss could break the terrible curse.

Dear reader, I suspect you now expect me to recant the tale of _Sleeping Beauty_. The tale of the enchanted princess Aurora and the brave prince who will come to her aid, braving terrible beasts to save her. But I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you and say that this is not the story I'm here to tell. No, I'm here to tell you the story of Emrys and Morgana before they were destined to fight on opposing sides of the board.

If you'll allow me, I'd like to take you back in time, far before Emrys was Emrys and Morgana was the most feared High Priestess in the seven kingdoms. Let's go back seventeen years.

You are in a farm village. Scrawny cows graze in the yellowed fields; houses stand dirty next to each other, their shingles falling with the smallest gusts of wind. Do not get comfortable, we won't be here long. Enter a young man. He has ebony hair and eyes whose color rival that of the South Seas. Wearing threadbare clothes, he carries on his thin shoulders large sacks of grain.

His name, Merlin.

From afar, he appears to be an average farmboy, whose destiny will contain nothing more than a mundane existence in a forgotten town at the edge of a great kingdom. But you see, my dearest reader, this boy has a gift, and rumors of it have traveled further than anyone could have foreseen. In fact, whispers of his ability have reached the court of the King Leodogrance. Loved by many, the ruler of the kingdom of Glendale is always on the lookout for additions to his gifted court. Artists, poets, writers (such as myself), musicians, chefs, mathematicians…and it goes on. Humbly said, the most brilliant are always found within the stone walls of the citadel. However, one gift that the King has been unable to boast is magic. The Old Religion has long since faded, and now there are very few born with the ability to transcend the planes of fantasy and reality. So when word of a boy at the outskirts of the empire with power potent enough to reach the ears of a king seated in his fortress, the sovereign did not hesitate in sending an envoy to fetch the young man and bring him under his protective care. There, the King could watch as the greatest professors nurtured the boy's gift so that, someday, it could serve the growing power of Glendale.

That is how a farmboy found himself at the gates of a place he had only ever dreamed of.

* * *

Now dear reader, I will leave you to enjoy this tale. I'll warn you that while it may appear to be, this is not a fairytale, and unlike fairytales, this story will not have a happy ending. But if your heart is strong enough, then I bid you luck and a fond farewell as you leave to start this journey. So prepare yourself and pack your bags with your favorite snacks (hot cocoa is always perfect in such situations) because your story starts (-dramatic pause-) now.

* * *

Stepping down from the rich carriage, Merlin looked up at the brilliant white turrets of the castle. In a daze, the farmboy stumbled forward, disbelieving, as he tried to take in as much as he could, all the while trying to figure whether this was just a dream.

"Boy. _Boy_."

Merlin shook himself out of his amazed stupor as a sharp voice called out to him. Tearing his eyes away from the gargantuan stone dwelling, he turned at the sound.

The man was richly dressed from head to foot, and even though he had never worn anything so fine, Merlin couldn't help but think that the man looked ridiculous. He was dressed in bright red pants embroidered with gold, and wore a bright purple velvet jacket which was tied all the way up to his chin. Bright yellow ruffles sprung from the jacket and put the man's head at a seemingly break neck position with his chin almost lifted all the way up. And not only was his outfit frightening, so was the man's posture. His back was board straight, his feet stiff, and his ankles pressed together. He held in his hand a large feather quill and a leather notebook in which he was madly scribbling.

"You know, it's rude to stare, "the man barked.

"So…sorry," Merlin stuttered.

"Sorry, _sir_," the man corrected strictly, putting a heavy emphasis on the last word. "Now come on, boy, I don't have all day." With that, he turned around and walked through the large doors, not looking back to check he was being followed (the pompous pigeon).

Securing his small bag around his shoulder, Merlin leapt up the stairs and followed the man into the castle, and unknowingly, to his destiny.

The man ahead walked briskly through the labyrinth of halls. _How will I memorize all these passages?_ Merlin thought as he turned corner after corner, walking down hall after hall of richly decorated corridors. So immersed he was in the scenery, that he ran into his guide when the man suddenly stopped.

"Sorry…sir," Merlin blustered, nearly forgetting the formality at the end.

"Don't you know any other words?" the man asked sharply as he brushed himself off. "Now boy, these are the quarters of the court physician, Gaius. You'll be staying and helping him—the King does not take kindly to useless wards." And with those brisk words, the man was gone, leaving Merlin in front of old, worn mahogany doors, hesitant to enter.

Plucking up what little courage he possessed, Merlin lifted his hand and knocked on the door, turning the old brass doorknob and entering when a gruff voice from inside said to do so. He closed the door behind him and looked around the room. It was fairly large, and every surface was covered with books or glass containers housing things from herbs to preserved eyeballs. Seated at one of the tables, an old man in a dark red tunic was studying the contents of a dirty glass vial. The man looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the raven haired boy at his door.

"Merlin…sir." Walking over, the boy handed the man a letter. "I'm here—"

"I know who you are." The old physician stood up and looked up at the boy, slightly disappointed that the young man was taller than him. "My name is Gaius. Let me show you to your room."

Gaius led Merlin to the end of the room where a small staircase led to small, sparsely decorated room. "Set down your things and let me fix you something, I'm sure you're hungry from your long trip. Ealdor is quite a ways from here."

"You've been to Ealdor?" Merlin asked, surprised. Few people knew of the village's existence, let alone traveled there.

"A lifetime ago," he muttered in reply, but said nothing else on the matter before leaving the room.

As he arranged his things, Merlin took a closer look at the place that would be his home for who knows how long. A small desk sat in the corner, and a worn wooden cupboard rested empty across from a window. Walking towards the little opening, Merlin looked out onto the city. The sun was beginning to set, and lights were being lit all over the city. Smoke rose from the multitude of buildings down below, and he watched as people made their way back home.

He smiled.

Tearing his eyes away from the view, Merlin walked down the steps and to the main room, taking a seat at an old bench. Gaius trudged over and handed the boy a bowl of what looked like white sludge, placing a large bucket of water on the table in front of him.

"Thank you, Sir," Merlin said hesitantly.

"Enough with that _Sir_ business, there is no need for it here."

"But the man who brought me here—"

"Oh, Martin is an arrogant fool, a stickler for rules. Ignore him. Now eat before it gets cold."

Merlin nodded and picked up his spoon, trying to hide his disgust and preparing himself to eat whatever the physician had handed him. Gaius looked at him from the corner of his blue eyes, observing. Suddenly, without warning, the physician hit his hand on the bucket, sending it tumbling. For an instant, Merlin's eyes glowed gold, and the pail froze. Gaius gasped and Merlin looked at him in shock before dropping his hand. The bucket hit the floor, water spilling everywhere.

It spread on the floor, slowly soaking the bottom of Gaius's tunic, but the man paid it no mind. He was fixated instead on the boy seated at his table.

"So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Merlin asked hesitantly, wringing his pale hands.

"That you can do magic, the likes of which have never been seen before."

"Sorry?"

Gaius took a seat next to the boy, still looking at him curiously—if not a little nervously. "Do you know anything about magic, boy?"

"Not much…I've never studied if that's what you mean."

"Well most magic isn't instinctual—" Seeing the boy's confusion, Gaius amended himself. "What I mean is that when most magicians use their skills, they have to think and use spells. The magic doesn't simply come to them naturally. Which begs the question, where did you learn to do so?"

"I don't know. I was born like this." Merlin stood up and walked towards the window across the room to look at the darkening sky before continuing quietly, his voice choked and broken. "So it's true. I am a monster, I'm cursed."

"No, my boy. What you have is a gift. Why do you think you were brought here if not because you possess it? Yours is an ability that even a king desires."

"I thought I was just brought here because the King feared that I would hurt someone."

"And that he does. Anyone who is wise would fear your ability. It's like has little been seen ever in the Seven Kingdoms. Obviously, he's apprehensive, but he admires it even more. "

"But I've only ever been told that magic is evil."Merlin replied bitterly.

"Magic is like a sword. It can be used for great things just as for terrible things. With the proper training, your magic can be used as a force for good." Gaius sighed as he looked at the boy's back. "Now come and eat your supper. You should get to bed soon—it'll be a long day tomorrow."

Merlin turned and followed his new guardian's orders, picking up the spoon and preparing to eat the glue in his bowl. He was about to take a mouthful before a hand stopped him, Gaius looking at him with what could be a smile-Merlin wasn't quite sure how to read this man's emotions yet.

"Here," Gaius handed him a sandwich and Merlin smiled before beginning to eat, the previous conversation already forgotten.

That night, after seeing that the boy had gone to bed, Gaius slipped out of his chambers. Walking down the corridors silently, the old physician made his way to the throne room, where King Leodogrance was seated—deep in thought.

"My lord. I'm sorry to disturb you."

The King started, but smiled at the sight of one of his most trusted advisers. "Not at all, Gaius. What news do you have on the newest addition to Glendale?"

"The boy is well mannered and quiet, if not a bit flustered. But give him time and I'm sure he'll fit in well here. This is a lot to take in for a country boy."

"Of course…" Trailing off, the King ran his finger on the polished wooden armrest of his throne. "Have you seen his…gift?"

"Yes," Gaius replied softly, thinking back to it, his eyes filling with awe at the memory. "I've not seen such a display of the Old Religion for a very long time. The boy is powerful, there is no denying it. However, he is conflicted. It will take time for him to become comfortable using an ability which he has grown up believing is wrong."

The King cursed. "Uther's influence grows. Camelot's fear of magic has even reached the edges of my empire."

"This boy could change that."

"What do you mean?"

Gaius was quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. "With a gift like his, he could become an example to the kingdom. A living proof that magic is good and not as terrible as Uther spells it out to be..."

"…And in turn, weaken Camelot's authority." The King smiled as he completed the thought. "See to it that the boy starts his tutelage tomorrow."

Bowing slightly, the physician turned to leave. As he was closing the doors behind him, the King's voice stopped him.

"Gaius?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"What's the boy's name?"

"Merlin."

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!**

**Ok, I have the notes here at the bottom so that you could get a taste of the story, and then see what I have to say. **

**1) This is, if you haven't already noticed, a massive AU**

**2) Warnings will come at the beginnings of each chapter. This story will have some very violent themes and some sexual content (hence the M rating)**

**3) I will be updating ever week, Wednesday or Thursday, unless something comes up or I have something planned-but I will warn you about that**

**4) My notes are on the bottom, so any info about following chapters will be down here**

**5) Beta is the lovely Merlyn Pendragon, you should read her stuff, IT'S SPECTACULAR**

**6) At the beginning of each chapter I'll just have a mergana song, I don't know, to get you in the mood. Song recommendations are brilliant**

**7) The first 2 chapters don't have much action. I made that decision because I figured because this is such an AU, I wanted to develop the world a bit first. But I promise, by chapter 3 you will begin getting your action sequences**

**8) Reviews are always always always welcome. It's just nice to know if people are interested, and constructive criticism is welcome. This is a work in progress, so if you have a scene in mind or you want me to just clarify something in the story, than I'll happily put it in**

**9)...running out of things to say, I really wanted to get to 10...**

**10) OH YES! I'll be publishing this on livejournal, so if you have an account there and would prefer to read it there, than just PM me and I'll give you the details**

**THANK YOU AGAIN FOR DROPPING BY (and if you chose to read all my little bullet points. My notes are usually more entertaining but sadly some important house-keeping cannot be forgotten)!**

**-ladywarlock**


	2. Welcome to Your New Life

**( I promised you a song at the beginning of every chapter, I'll try to vary genres as much as I can. Enjoy the chapter! )**

_**The Waltz: On**_**e_ Republic_**

"Rise and shine. It's a terrible day out, go make it better."

Merlin yawned widely and stretched in the tiny bed, his black hair ruffled, his white bed shirt crumpled. He groaned. "What time is it?"

"Does it matter? Your new life starts now, boy, and if you don't get up, you'll find it'll end before it's really begun."

The boy groaned again, but complied, pulling himself off the bed and getting dressed as Gaius fixed breakfast. When he at last fastened his bright red neckerchief round his throat, Merlin made his way down the stairs and towards what he now knew was the dining table. Gaius looked him up and down, eyeing his outfit critically.

"What?" Merlin asked, following his gaze and looking down at himself, before continuing in a near panicked voice. "Don't tell me I have to dress like that Michael guy."

"Martin," Gaius amended. "And no, what you're wearing will have to do. But chances are that if the professors think you have promise and you're officially welcomed to the court, you'll have to dress in finer clothes."

"But I can't afford anything else. I have no money—"

"The King gives his wards monthly payments for necessities, housing, clothes, and food, but since you're working for me you have both food and housing covered, and you can save the rest for other things."

Merlin nodded in understanding, and the two continued their meal in silence. When they were finished, it was Gaius who broke the quiet. "You are to meet the other wards and your professors now. You'll need to go to the library."

"How do I get there?"

"Just walk and ask around. It'll help you get to know people."

"Thank you." Merlin pulled on his jacket and began to walk towards the door when he felt Gaius's hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Here." Gaius brushed the boy's hair back, fixing it as best he could. "Remind me to give you a haircut when you get back. Now off you go."

When the door closed behind him, Merlin walked confidently down the hall before stopping and seeing two passages. Suddenly, the warlock realized his predicament—he had absolutely no idea where he was going. "Find someone and ask. Get to the library," Merlin muttered to himself under his breath. Inhaling in preparation, the boy chose right and began to blindly make his way through that labyrinth of a castle.

Turning a corner, Merlin finally caught sight of long purple skirts-somebody who might now their way around "Hey!" Calling out, he jogged towards the figure at the end of the corridor. "Hello!"

The figure turned around just as Merlin reached her, and he stopped dead. She was beautiful, with smooth copper skin and long, dark, curly tresses. "Sorry," he fumbled, trying to reorganize his thoughts. "I'm hopelessly lost."

"And I'm not, "she replied with a smile. "Where do you need to be?"

"The library."

The beautiful girl smiled again. "That's where I'm headed now. Are you a new student?"

"Yes. My name is…" Stopping, he tried remember it "…Merlin," he said confidently, proud at having remembered—but he blushed when he realized what a fool he must look.

"Gwenivere Leodogrance, but most people call me Gwen. It's a pleasure meeting you, Merlin."

"Likewise," he replied in awe. "You're the Princess."

"That's what happens when you're the King's daughter," Gwen teased. "Now come on, we can't let you be late for your first day of classes."

Together, they made their way down the hallways, and pretty soon the pair was laughing after realizing that they had quite a bit in common. Every now and then, Gwen would point out a landmark and Merlin would tuck it in his mind to help him remember his way around the vast citadel.

"Here we are," she said finally, as they reached large, tall doors, guards opening them at the sight of the Princess. "The royal library."

Merlin's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Reaching from the richly carpeted floors to the lofty painted ceilings, shelves carried thousands upon thousands of books. Thick volumes to thin volumes, their multitude was unrivaled in all the seven kingdoms. Gargantuan ladders attached to small wheels carried students and scholars alike to the texts of their choice. Merlin's ears filled with the sound of excited talk and the rustling of paper, the sound of ladders rolling across to different shelves. Across from the great doors at the entrance was a wall made of nothing but glass. The polished window gave those inside a view of the whole kingdom, from the seas to the great mountains, from the great wide open fields to the vast forests, from the borders of Cenred's kingdom to the borders of Uther's.

Gwen leaned over. "I know. It's my favorite part of the castle-other than the roof."

Merlin nodded in agreement, his blue eyes still struggling to take in all that he could of the stunning view. But Gwen would have none of it and took him by the elbow, dragging him towards the end of the room where there was a large mahogany desk, behind of which sat three finely robed men looking over the individuals in the incredible space.

"Those are the head scholars; they watch over us, assign our teachers, and work. They'll tell you what to do. Now come on, close your mouth, you don't want them to see a bug fly in there—you look enough of a fool already."

"Sure, yeah….hey!" Merlin said, finally snapping out of whatever spell the room had cast on him. Gwen just giggled.

"Go, I need to get to work."

Watching her as she left, Merlin shook his head in amazement at the girl who had led him here. But apprehension soon overtook him as he looked towards the masters of the hall, and he swallowed as he slowly walked over.

"Umm…hello…My name is Merlin…" The boy choked out as he reached them, and their eyes turned to him, eyebrows narrowing in unison.

A tall man with black hair and frighteningly-pale skin spoke first in a deep voice. "Ahhhh, Mr. Merlin, the farm boy. Our new…celebrity."

"Sorry, sir, I don't understand—"

"Yes. I don't suppose you do."

"Enough." The man seated next to him spoke. His hair was light brown, and he wore a simple brown tunic, nothing in comparison to the two men seated beside him. But that wasn't at all his most notable feature, because the left side of his face was terribly disfigured; however, that didn't dull the twinkle of kindness in his eyes. "This is probably a lot to take in. How are you finding the palace, Merlin? I hope you are beginning to like it here."

"I've not been here long, but I like it so far," Merlin replied, his eyes still on the dark-haired man.

"My name is Edwin. And I, for one, would like to welcome you here, because some clearly have forgotten that you are still a guest here, and so deserve the utmost hospitality." His eyes flashed towards the dark-haired man, who merely sneered. "This is Surevres." Edwin gestured to the sneering man. "And this is Phillip." The old man at his right nodded his head in greeting. "Now, Merlin, if you could follow me, please."

Edwin rose to his feet and began walking up stairs near the desks, Merlin following, and the other two scholars walking right after the boy. The staircase was made of black iron and spiraled up to a door embedded in the shelves. Through the doorway and the following stone hallways, the three men and boy made their way to an impossibly large room, devoid of anything but the gray stones it was made of.

"This, Merlin, is our training area. We generally fill it with weapons for our knights to practice with, but the only weapon you need is inside you, isn't it?"

"My magic?" Merlin asked in surprise at his gift being referred to as a weapon.

"Well, of course your magic, boy, why else would you be here?" Surevres snapped with a sneer—a facial expression that Merlin was coming to believe to be the only one the man could manage.

"Yes, Merlin, your magic. Now, what do you know about the subject?" Edwin asked softly, ignoring Sureves's remark.

"Nothing really, it just…comes to me."

"Do you know any spells?"

"No."

"Potions?"

"No."

"Creatures?"

"No."

"Do you know anything, boy?" Surevres interjected sharply.

"I'm sorry, sir, I know nothing of magic- only that I was born with it."

"A warlock," Phillip breathed, the old man finally speaking.

"Yes. That's what my mother called me," Merlin said apprehensively, doing his best not to back away when the old man approached him, coming uncomfortably close as he studied the dark haired boy.

"We three are the only in the court capable of harnessing the powers of the Old Religion, so we'll be your teachers, "Edwin said softly, trying to put the boy at ease.

"And it seems like we have a lot to do," Surevres muttered.

Edwin shot him another look. "Now, Merlin, we are going to see what you're capable of. We are going to practice a few basic spells, just to get a gist of how easily the incantations will work with you. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah." His stomach filling with butterflies, Merlin swallowed his fear and squared his shoulders.

"Repeat after me. _Forbearnen_." Edwin held out his hand, and from his finger leapt a small ball of flame. "Say it strongly, and try to focus all your strength and power into it."

Merlin nodded and held out his hand, concentrating on the palm of his hand. "_Forbearnen_." His eyes glowed gold and flame leapt out of his hand, the blast sending his new teachers to the other side of the room.

"Sorry!" Merlin closed his palm and the fire was gone.

"No, no, Merlin. That was good, very good." Edwin brushed himself off, helping Phillip to his feet, his blue eyes wide.

"Good!? The boy has absolutely no restraint," Surevres snapped as he brushed off his own black robes, attempting to slick back his greasy shoulder length black hair.

"Well, of course. He hasn't been trained. " Phillip walked towards Merlin. "Son, could you do that again, but not concentrate as much?"

Nodding again, Merlin-still shocked at the fire that had just shot from him mere moments ago-opened up his palm again, whispering the incantation under his breath.

A small ball of flame leapt up, and Merlin stepped back in surprise, wincing slightly as he expected the fire to burn him. But it didn't. It just was soft in his palm, warm and slightly ticklish. The warlock looked at it in wonder.

"Wonderful, "Phillip breathed. "Absolutely splendid."

Merlin looked up at him, to Edwin, to Surevres, then back down at the lick of flame he had conjured with only a breath.

"Yes, Merlin. I think…I think that'll be all for today, "Edwin said softly and Merlin closed his palm, dismissing the fire. "Here." The scholar left the room for a moment, and returned with three thick volumes. "Read and practice with the blue one, you can study the green if you choose, but don't open the red until we are with you."

Merlin nodded, accepting the heavy books, looking at his teachers and waiting.

Surevres's thick eyebrows narrowed. "That means you're dismissed boy."

"Oh, sorry." Merlin walked quickly out the room, but as he reached the doorway, Edwin's voice stopped him.

"Merlin. You're going to need this to read the books." The scholar handed him a small slip of paper, on which were runes and their Latin equivalents. "Good luck. Practice. If you need any help, just ask Gaius."

"Gaius?"

"Yes. Gaius used to study the Old Religion, "Edwin replied.

"Why used to? Did he stop?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I think that is up for him to tell you." The scholar winked, a motion that Merlin found disturbing when coupled with his disfigured features. "Now off you go."

Merlin looked at the three one last time before finally walking out the door and down the stairs, joining the other pupils in the vast library.

Edwin, Philllip, and Surevres watched him as he disappeared in the crowd.

"Well?" Edwin broke the silence as he looked at his companions. "What do you think of him?"

"He's powerful, more so than I anticipated," Phillip replied. "He's spectacular—"

"Are you both blind?" Surevres snapped. "The boy is dangerous. To teach him would be to the seal the demise of the kingdom."

"Or it's salvation."

"You think that, Phillip? You saw what he could do. With power comes corruption, and it'll only be a matter of time before his power is even greater than ours, and no one will be his equal."

"Why do you hate him so much, Surevres?" Phillip asked. "The boy has not yet given you a reason to dislike him."

"What does it matter what he does? What matters is what he's capable of. I say we stop this nonsense and forget about the boy before his magic becomes more than innocent."

"So much raw power, "Edwin murmured, and the two stopped, finally quiet. "So much raw power in such a young person. Surevres, whatever you might say, the boy cannot be ignored. If we do not train him, than someone else will, and they might have ill intentions."

"Then, Edwin, you know what we must do—"

"Kill him?" Phillip cried. "I'm appalled at you, Surevres. I never thought that your jealousy could go so far—"

"Jealousy? How dare you make such an accusation, you feeble-minded old buffoon—"

"Then what other reason have you for hating him—"

"I have nothing but the needs of the kingdom in mind—"

"ENOUGH!" The two stopped, still glaring at each other. "Enough bickering, the both of you. This doesn't help us." Edwin turned to Surevres. "We won't be killing anyone, and that leaves us with no other option. We will teach the boy, and we will treat him like one of our own. Is that understood?" he asked, fixing Surevres with a look.

"Edwin—"

"No. The boy has done nothing wrong, and so does not deserve your anger. We will watch him, teach him, and guide him—"

"Edwin, I implore you to see reason." Surevres walked towards him. "You heard the prophesy. You heard what Kilgarrah said."

"Yes. That the boy is and will be the most powerful to ever live, and that when the crimson moon falls into eclipse with the sun, the boy will make a decision that will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms."

Surevres nodded. "But still you seek to teach him. Can't you see the folly?"

"But you forget, my friend, that Kilgarrah also said the boy is Emrys, the one destined to bring forth the land of Albion, to bring magic back to the seven kingdoms—"

"You know as well as I, Edwin, that could either be light or dark."

"Yes, that is why we must guide him to the light, so that when the time comes for him to make the choice, he'll choose salvation instead of destruction."

"Wouldn't it be better just to be rid of him?"

"Surevres, you know that the prophesies cannot be avoided. They will come to pass. Merlin will have to make that decision when the crimson moon eclipses, no matter what happens in the time before it."

"Edwin, the moon eclipses in four years. We don't have enough time—"

"Then we'd best stop wasting it," Edwin snapped. "And that is the end of it, Surevres. I have made my decision. The boy will learn, he will live here, and he will be treated with the respect he deserves."

"Fine, but you will regret this." With that, Surevres was gone.

Phillip sighed and put a comforting hand on Edwin's shoulder. "You did the right thing."

"I hope so." Edwin walked to the doorway and looked down at the students, finding Merlin's disheveled black hair seated at a table with the princess. "Do you think he'll be ready?"

"Only time will tell."

* * *

"Merlin!" Gwen smiled as the young man approached her. She was seated at one of the great tables in the library—alone.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not!" Gwen moved her books to the side to give him room to set his things. "Sorry, I have a lot of materials…"

"What are you studying?" He asked as he took his seat.

"The law of Glendale. It's what's expected of the heir to the throne. It's probably the dullest material on Earth, but it's what I have to do. My professor would kill me if I didn't do my homework-but enough about me. Tell me, how was your session? I saw the scholars disappearing with you to the training area."

"Yeah. They're my teachers."

"The heads are your teachers?" she asked in surprise. "What did they say? What did you do?"

"Nothing really. I was so overwhelmed the whole time that I probably looked like an idiot." Seeing that he had not sated Gwen's curiosity, he continued, elaborating more. "They tested the strength of my magic by asking me to practice a spell. I did well—I think. It was terrifying, " Merlin admitted, and the princess laughed.

"I'll bet."

"By the way, what's up with that Surevres guy? He really didn't seem to like me…"

"Don't take is personally. He doesn't like anyone, but don't get on his wrong side and he won't be too vicious."

"I think it's too late for that. I guess I did something to annoy him, if only I knew what…"

Gwen gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, then I guess you just have to get on his good side. What is it that they gave you to do?"

"I have to read and practice from the blue book," he said, looking down at the thick volume. Opening it, he froze.

"Merlin? What's wrong?" Gwen asked, leaning over to look at the book. "What is that?"

Merlin picked up the slip of paper Edwin gave him, and looked back down at the book. The thick volume was written in the runes, every last page. "I have to translate all of this?" he breathed.

Gwen stifled a laugh at his expression. "It appears so. You'd better get to work."

"This is going to take forever," he groaned, flipping the pages and seeing nothing but rune upon rune.

"I'll bet it will."

Merlin looked up at her, the two locked eyes, and after a moment's silence they burst into laughter.

"I am screwed," he gasped, struggling for breath.

"Yes, yes, you are." Gwen said, doing the same. "Now we have to be quiet; people are starting to look."

They looked at each other again, and were overcome again by another fit of laughter.

"What is so funny?" A stiff voice cured them and they looked up to see Martin looking down at them with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing, Martin. Merlin just told me a funny joke," Gwen replied, giving the garishly-dressed adult her best poker face.

"Did he now? Well, _Princess_, remind Mr. _Merlin_ that this is a library in which we don't tell… _jokes __(saying the word as he would say 'mouldy haggis')_. Is that understood?" he replied coldly, directing the last comment at the dark-haired newcomer.

"Crystally." Merlin watched Martin as he walked away, before turning back to Gwen. "Who is Martin anyways?"

"I guess you could say he's the head of the wards and the head butler. I don't think there is a real word for what he does. He's a pain in the ass, though."

"Gwen!" Merlin exclaimed, pulling a shocked face, hiding his smile. "I didn't think princesses used such common language."

The aforementioned snorted. "Well, you could say I'm not much of a princess. My father expects me to work just like everyone else, says it keeps me grounded and nice."

"It's working," Merlin said, then seeing the look on her face, he turned beet red and began to flounder. "I mean you aren't terrible to hang out with. You're actually the nicest person I've met here."

"That's because I'm one of the only people you've met here." Gwen giggled. "And thank you, you're not bad yourself—for a magical farmboy."

"Glad to please you, my Lady." Merlin gave her a cheeky smile and the two laughed again.

And so they stayed like that for the rest of the day, enjoying the pleasure of each other's company while dually mocking each other because of the dull work they had been assigned. When the library finally emptied and the sun set, the two lifted their books and left, Gwen leading Merlin to Gaius's chambers. When they reached the familiar doors, Merlin turned to the princess, a blush creeping up his pale cheekbones.

"You know, it's customary for a man to walk a woman to her door, not the other way around."

"Says the farmboy to the Princess," Gwen said, lifted her head up high to feign authority. "Who's got the power here?"

"You never know. Someday, I might become some powerful sorcerer, and I'll remind you of that comment when you come begging at my doorstop to help you with my awesome powers."

"That day is far off, Merlin, so I won't hold my breath," the Princess replied with a satisfied smile.

"Touché."

She giggled and brushed down her dress. "Tomorrow we don't have classes, just in case you're still unfamiliar with the schedule here. We have classes every other day; the additional day is for you to work. I'm guessing Gaius will have plenty for you to get done."

Merlin sighed. "Don't you ever catch a break here?"

"No—not unless there is something big planned and classes are canceled. They work us like mules, but that makes it all the sweeter when you finally graduate."

"It's not sweet now."

"No," Gwenivere laughed. "No, it's not."

"Well then," Merlin trailed off. "I'd better get inside. Who knows what Gaius has planned for me…Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, magical farmboy."

**Sorry, not much action, just a little drama and fluff. Next chapter will welcome the start of an adventure so stay tuned!**

**If you didn't notice, I updated the story cover. It was done by my lovely, perfect, brilliant, beta Merlyn Pyndragon. READ HER STUFF! IT IS BLOODY BRILLIANT ( I know, shamelessly promoting my friend, but what else am I going to do when such a brilliant writer has graced my story?)**

**Thank you all so very much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! It's nice to know that there are people out there reading!**

**I forgot to mention, I am tardisbluewarlock on tumblr, so if any of you happen to be on that addictive blue site as well, drop by and say hello!**

**Any questions, comments, or just want to make my day? WRITE SOMETHING IN THE WHITE BOX AND CLICK THE MAGIC BLUE BUTTON!**

**Have a lovely day/evening!**

**-ladywarlock**


	3. The Adventure Begins

**( This is a really long chapter, so get comfortable. It started as two but I thought I'd thank you guys for the lovely reviews be merging them for more action)**

**Song: _No Light, No Light: Florence + the Machine_-regarding songs I try to bring in all genres, so hopefully you'll eventually find one you like**

**WARNING: Like the chapter title says, the adventure begins now. Which means you will be getting a teaser as to why this fic is M rated. So warnings for violence and adult language. **

* * *

"Focus."

"I am focusing."

Merlin's eyes glowed a brilliant gold as he kept the other wizard in his line of sight. Edwin stood across him, and without warning, let fly a dozen daggers of all different sizes. Holding out his hand, the daggers stopped in mid air, Merlin freezing them without uttering one of the many spells he had become comfortable with. Eyebrows furrowed, his eyes glowing even brighter, the daggers turned around at his command and flew at Edwin, breaking the other sorcerer's shield and stopping right before they pierced his skin.

Edwin smiled, "you get stronger every day."

"If I'm getting stronger, then why won't you let me get out of here and put my skills to the test? You know I'm ready."

"You're not ready yet. Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good. Not for silly things."

"What is there to master?! I could move objects like that since before I could talk."

"Then by now you should know how to control it."

"I do!"

"Not yet, Merlin. You have to show some restraint when you use magic. Only yesterday, you had that incident in the barn where you sent all the brooms in the castle to help you clean up."

"What if I don't want to show restraint? Magic is all I have! I should be at liberty to use it—"

"Enough!" Edwin snapped. "You're not ready and that's the end of it."

"No."

The older sorcerer narrowed his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"What are you so afraid of?" Merlin asked, squaring his shoulders. "I've been here a year, Edwin. Spells, potions, creatures—I've mastered it. I can't learn more being cooped up here in the castle. You claim that I need to use my magic for good, then let me use it for such."

"I've told you before, boy; the people aren't ready for magic. Uther's influence has grown even stronger; people aren't comfortable with it as a solution to their problems."

"You keep saying that, and you keep saying that I can change that perception. Why don't you give me the chance? Do you not trust me?"

"Don't ever think that," Edwin walked forward and put his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

Merlin pulled away. "More like you don't want to see other people getting hurt."

Edwin shook his head. "Merlin—"

"No, Edwin. You can't keep me locked here forever." With that, the dark-haired boy walked out, leaving his professor at a loss of what to do.

* * *

"No."

"Surevres—"

"No, Edwin. He's not ready yet."

"He's been here a year. Merlin has a point. We can't keep him here, protected in the castle's walls. The moon eclipses in three years, and he needs to be ready—"

"And he will be—after being safely guided by us."

"He won't be ready if he can't use it in real situations."

Phillip, quiet as ever, finally interrupted. "I think Edwin's right, Surevres. I don't like it any more than you, but you've seen the boy. He's mastered almost all we know in only a year. But he can't reach his potential if we keep protecting him like this."

"And you think knowing the truth will make him wiser? Imagine knowing what you want him to know. To know that the destiny of the known world rests on his one decision is too much for one so naïve."

Edwin sighed. "I know. But the prophesy approaches, he needs to know—"

"-That he may be destined to destroy the world? I wonder how that conversation will go," Surevres snorted.

"I may have a solution," Phillip said quietly. "What if we get _him_ to tell Merlin."

"NO," Edwin and Surevres said in unison.

"I wouldn't trust that lizard for as far as I could spit," Edwin continued.

"For _once_, I agree with Edwin."

"Well, we could have the boy meet him, and if it's time to tell him, the dragon will. No matter how much longer we wait, it won't make anything any better. He needs to know, and I, for one, would rather not be the one to break it to him," Phillip replied.

Edwin sighed. "What if he eats him?"

Surevres laughed. "Then all of our troubles will be over."

Phillip gave the dark-haired man a look before turning back to Edwin. "While you don't like him, Kilgarrah is wiser than that."

Edwin's face twisted in thought, and he turned slowly to Surevres.

"No, Edwin. Edwin, don't do this."

"It might not be such a bad idea…"

Surevres threw his arms in the air. "I'm done with you both. Do whatever you want, but I'm not chaperoning."

The dark-haired man stormed out, his black robe sweeping behind him.

The other two men were quiet, and it was Phillip who finally broke the silence. "He's always been one for dramatic exits."

Edwin looked at him and after a moment, the two sorcerers burst out laughing. "So we have a decision?" Phillip continued.

"Yes. Yes we do. "

* * *

When Merlin arrived for his lesson, he was playing with his hands. Upon catching sight of Edwin, he let out a string of swiftly spoken words. "I'm so sorry Edwin, I don't know what I was thinking, I was just frustrated and bored—"

"Don't worry about it, Merlin. I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."

"You do?"

"Yes, "Phillip replied. "We've decided to send you on a trip."

Merlin's eyes narrowed, looking at the three men in confusion. "A trip? Where?"

"Passed the Locksley Forests, and passed the white capped mountains, is the Valley of Darkness—it's a clearing that rests in the middle of the Dark Mountains. There you'll find the last remaining Dragon, a creature that will give you all the answers you seek, as well as more wisdom than we could ever teach you. " Phillip looked at the boy's face, watching as the brilliant blue eyes widened.

"A dragon," Merlin breathed, but then he stopped, looking at them in dawning realization. "You said _I'll_ find, singular. You mean you're not coming with me?"

"Yes. This is a trip you'll have to make on your own. Anyways, last time we spoke with Kilgarrah—let's say that he doesn't like us very much."

Merlin nodded, still astounded. "When do I leave? What do I have to do?"

"You leave at dawn tomorrow," Surevres said. "We'll give you the maps. You've already mastered runes, and you know enough spells to keep you alive."

Taking a deep breath, Merlin turned to Edwin. "Do you think I'm ready?"

"Yes, Merlin," Edwin replied with a soft smile. "I was a fool thinking you weren't."

Merlin nodded. "So find the dragon, ask him about me, and come back. Sounds easy enough."

"Not quite." Phillip conjured a table and set on it a large worn map. "On the way, you'll meet terrible creatures, not to mention you'll be staying in the wilderness. The trip shouldn't take you more than two weeks, but you should know that no matter how long it takes you, no one will come to search for you. You'll have to do this on your own." The old man's eyes glowed gold, and suddenly a path darkened on the map. "Follow this, and you won't be led astray."

Taking the map, Merlin folded it gingerly, before turning to his three teachers again. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

"You'd better not boy, you've wasted enough of my time, " Surevres snapped before leaving the room, clearly uninterested in giving any kind of luck or farewell to his pupil.

"Good luck, my boy." Phillip clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder, a gesture mirrored by Edwin.

"I'm sure you'll do wonderfully, " Edwin said. "Now you'd best go pack and ready your horse in the stables—and be sure to say goodbye to Gwen. She'll have your head faster than the dragon if you don't."

Merlin smiled. "Of course. Thank you, Edwin, for everything."

Edwin nodded and left the room with Phillip, and, finding himself alone, Merlin jumped up and down and did a little jig. "YES." Then straightening himself up, Merlin calmly left the room- an excited smile gracing his pale features.

* * *

"GAIUS!" Merlin shouted in uncontained excitement. "GUESS WHOSE LEAVING THE BLOODY CASTLE!"

"My dear boy, I may be old but I'm not stupid. I know it's you who is leaving, there's no reason to shout. However, might this thick old man ask to where you are going?"

"To see the last dragon and ask him why I'm like this. The professors gave me a map and I'm to leave tomorrow, "he replied, lowering his voice.

Gaius narrowed his eyes at the young man by the door. In the short year that he had been here, Merlin had almost become a new person. The boy was still slim and pale, but his shoulders were pulled back in confidence, and his features were already older. _My, how they grow, leaving us, the old, to wither with their youth_. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow… I need to pack!" Merlin jumped up to his room and grabbed the pack that he had brought to Glendale, but Gaius's wrinkled hand stopped him. "It's not fitting for you to carry that. Here, take mine." The old man handed him a worn leather backpack, embroidered delicately near the edges. "There, that is more fitting, and it'll fit your things much better."

"Thank you, Gaius, but it's too much. I couldn't possibly—"

"Don't be silly, boy, take it. I have no need for it."

"Thank you, "Merlin managed, running his hand over the soft dark leather.

Gaius nodded. "I'll prepare you some provisions. I should pack some useful herbs, and maybe jot down a few useful incantations."

Merlin quickly got to work, looking through his many volumes that lay scattered around his room, and was finished just as Gaius placed some food in his pack. "This will last you a week, but if you ever catch sight of any edible berries, then be sure to pick them. You never know what might happen."

The raven-haired boy placed a few changes of clothes in the sack, and a small notebook, which held some useful spells on top of everything. He studied his work, and slowly the nervousness began to catch up to him. _Holy shit, I'm going to see a dragon._

"Gaius…"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Do you think the dragon will eat me?"

Gaius laughed. "Kilgarrah is nothing more than an overgrown lizard, overly fond of riddles and turning men mad, but he's much too delicate to eat someone as bony as you."

"You know the dragon?"

"Oh yes, I met Kilgarrah once, when I was in Uther's kingdom. Camelot's King was on a rampage against the creatures and when Kilgarrah was captured under his castle, a dragon lord and I went to free him. We were successful, and I never saw the two again."

"I underestimated you, Gaius."

"That's because you're still a child."

"Thank you, "Merlin replied sarcastically.

The boy's guardian merely smiled. "Are you finished?"

"I guess. All that's left is to ready the horse tomorrow morning."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Be careful."

Merlin looked up at the old man in surprise. "I will be."

"Promise me, Merlin." Gaius walked over to the boy and clapped a hand on his thin shoulder. "You have to promise me you won't go and be foolish."

"I promise." The two were quiet for a moment. "I don't know what to say, "Merlin said softly, looking back at Gaius.

"Nothing. Now you'd best go and say goodbye to Gwen. I'll have dinner ready for you when you return."

"Ok." Merlin paused for moment. Then left the room, unaware that Gaius watched the young man's frame until it disappeared round the corner.

The old man sighed.

Merlin found Gwen on the roof, her favorite part of the castle. She was seated, reading a thick novel, her curly hair framing her beautiful face.

"Gwen."

The princess jumped up, but seeing it was Merlin, she let out a breathy laugh. "You startled me."

"Sorry."

Gwen cocked her head, narrowing her brown eyes. "What's wrong?"

Merlin walked towards her, running his hand through his ink-black hair. "I'm leaving tomorrow to go see a dragon that's supposed to give me all my answers."

Gwen smiled widely. "Isn't that great? You've been moaning about being cooped up here since the day you arrived."

"I know…I'm just not sure whether I'm ready to know the answers yet. The moment is finally here, but I'm afraid the answers might not be all I ever dreamed of."

"Oh, Merlin." Gwen leaned over and put her arms around him, squeezing his thin frame. Merlin rested his head in her neck, hands loosely around her waist, taking comfort in his friend's familiar warmth.

"I don't know why I'm so scared. I'm not supposed to be. I wasn't before. But now that the time is nearing, I'm just…afraid."

"That means your human, "Gwen whispered back, pulling back and ruffling up his hair, making him smile. "I'm going to miss you, magical farm boy."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Princess."

* * *

Merlin woke up the next morning to Gaius's hand shaking him from his sleep. "Come on, Merlin, it's time to get up."

The butterflies swarmed the warlock's stomach, and he quickly got dressed and ate breakfast quietly, unable to finish it because of the nerves. He walked back to his room and retrieved his bags, straightening his jacket and stepping down the stairs to find Gaius waiting for him in front of the door. The old man looked him up and down, and didn't say anything when he reached over and pulled the un-expecting young man into an embrace. Merlin returned it hesitantly. Gaius let him go and looked him over one last time, reaching up and fixing the boy's black hair.

"Off you go."

Merlin nodded and walked out the door, only to turn back and say one last thing to his guardian. "Thank you, for everything, Gaius."

Gaius merely shooed him out the door, but the wrinkled face was turned upwards in a small smile, and he watched Merlin as he left. He turned back to find the large room far emptier.

As for the warlock, he had made his way quietly to the stables, where he readied his favorite horse, strapping on his old leather saddle over its dark brown coat. He attached the bag to the side and mounted, trotting the horse out the stable, turning back one last time to look back at the castle. Catching sight of Gwen watching him out of one of the windows, he waved to her and gave her a smile before gently pushing his horse forward, out of the palace grounds, out of the markets, homes, and out of the city's wooden gates.

He pulled out the map and headed towards Locksley Forest, breathing in the clear air. A small smile made its way to his face and Merlin began to enjoy himself as he galloped across the wide open fields, the wind rustling his clothes, the sun warming his skin. Finally, he was feeling the freedom he had so longed for.

The forest was dark and ominous when he approached it, and the sun was setting on the first day of his journey. He followed the path that was sketched in on the map into the dark canopy, and moved a slight ways away from it to make camp for the night.

"_Forbearnen_."

He smiled and leaned back, eating the first of his food. Keeping the fire lit to stay any interested predators, he wrapped himself in his thick blanket and was quickly asleep-having not noticed how tired he was until his body was stretched out on the soft forest foliage.

The first rays of the morning sun woke him up the next morning, and he was fast to repack his things and be on his way, following the large path into the forest. However, the map soon led him off the well-worn path into much thinner roads decorated with obstacles for which he had to dismount and guide his horse around. As the sun set on his second day, Merlin began to grow uneasy. He had seen no traveling through the forest, and the unnatural silence of Locksley wood was beginning to put him ill at ease. Even the horse was fidgeting when he settled down to sleep, and that night he was plagued with nightmares of burning castles, screaming children, and a beautiful dark-haired lady, whose eyes were a stunning jade.

When he woke the next morning, it wasn't because of the sun. It was because of a strong wind that sent his blanket flying away. Merlin was immediately awake, and just as he jumped to his feet, another strong gust of wind hit him against a tree. His horse whinnied and pranced in fear, struggling to pull itself free of the rope Merlin had tied tightly to a branch. Struggling against the powerful gusts, the warlock made his way to his horse, but just as he reached it, the wind disappeared. He looked around in surprise, preparing himself for another painful collision with a tree.

But it never came.

The peculiarities didn't end there. As he looked around, he blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing.

His blanket was where he had slept, undisturbed by any wind.

"What...?"

His horse nickered softly, and when he glanced at it, he realized that it was calm, peacefully eating some of the rich green grass peeking out from between the roots of the towering trees.

Merlin shook his head and attempted to sit back down. He was still exhausted. However, he was too shaken to rest, and so ate a quick breakfast of dried fruits and leapt back on his horse, on his way again.

Sadly, it didn't take long for Merlin's ill ease to return, and the hairs on the back of his pale neck stood on end as he felt the horrid feeling that he was being watched. But no matter how much he twisted and turned, he could see no one or nothing amid the endless branches. A small breeze picked up and ruffled his hair, and he stopped the horse and turned back as quick as he could, but there was no one there.

_There shouldn't be wind so deep in a forest. _

"_Cume poden_," he muttered under his breath, and watched as the breeze he conjured disappeared down the path.

Nothing.

_Well, what were you expecting?_He thought to himself, but just as he turned, a great gust of wind hit him square in the chest. The horse screamed and Merlin flew off its back. In a thunder of hooves, the beast charged off down the path and was swiftly consumed by the thick ranks of looming trees.

"WAIT! STOP!" the warlock yelled after it, struggling to get to his feet, but the horse had disappeared, and with it, all of his provisions. Looking down at the map in his hand, Merlin squared his shoulders and turned to look at where the wind had come from. But instead of feeling fear, his lips turned upwards in a small.

_There's something out there, and next time it tries something like that, I'll be ready_.

Merlin turned back to the map and continued his trip, though, very soon, his feet began to mourn the loss of the horse. When he had had enough—his level of exhaustion told him the time of day, because the forest was always dim, never dark, never light—Merlin climbed a tree and attempted to get comfortable in the fork of two thick branches.

_"Leot, " __he_murmured and let a small light loose, allowing it to act as a kind of guard while he slept. The light would go out when it encountered foreign magic, and so with that slight comfort, the boy fell into another fitful night's sleep.

* * *

"_You don't have to do this."_

"_I do."_

"_Please, after everything we've been through together."_

"_It means nothing anymore. You made that quite clear."_

"_You betrayed me. You had me tortured and locked in a dungeon."_

"_If you hate me so much, then, why are you here?"_

"_Because I still love you. "_

"_But I don't love you."_

"_You're lying."_

"_ENOUGH. The time for useless words is over."_

"_What? You'd prefer me to try and kill you?"_

"_Oh no, you won't kill me, but that doesn't mean I won't kill you."_

"_Don't do this. Don't make me do this."_

"_Good bye."_

"NO" Merlin shouted as he jolted upright, sweat running down his brow. _It was a dream, just a dream_. But it had felt so real. He ran his hand through his wet hair, slowing his breaths. Looking around, he caught sight of his little light floating around him, but other than that, the forest was a chilling quiet. Merlin groaned softly when he stretched, his back aching from the night/day in the tree. He jumped down and gripped the map tightly, well aware that he was not even half way through the journey and he had no food. Tightening his belt, Merlin set off again, nerves on end, eyes peeled.

The day passed without incident, and when he settled down to sleep again, his dreams were again plagued by great battlefields and cries of sorrow—that and the lady whose presence was beginning to frighten him. _Who is she?_ Merlin thought when he woke. _A figment of your imagination, __he_ replied to himself, and he shook the image of her raven hair and ruby lips from his mind. Merlin looked down at the map, happy to find that this would probably be his last day in this god-forsaken forest. With that joyful thought, and a belly barely sated by a few berries he had found the day before, the warlock set out again.

His boots crunched against the leaves on the floor, and the occasional twig snapped under his feet as he ducked below branches to reach the edge of the wood. Merlin was just beginning to catch sight of a few rays of sunlight through the canopy when suddenly; he heard an echoing crack, the whip-lash of a rope snapping the air. He gasped as he was abruptly jerked into the air by his ankle, a trap that hoisted him frightfully high above the ground His map fluttered down to the earth uselessly.

"Damn, " he groaned softly, and struggled in his bonds. _Spells, Spells, SPELLS._Closing his eyes, he shifted through all the incantations that could get him out of this mess.

"Your spells won't work on that rope, sorcerer. They'll only strengthen its hold on you. Clever thing, isn't it?"

Merlin's head ached as he turned his head to the sound of the voice .There stood a heavy-set man with graying and balding brown hair, a belt littered with daggers of all sizes, and a whip that was stained with what the warlock thought was blood.

"The name is Galic."

"Merlin, "the boy replied. "Sorry, you seem to know lots about this rope. Is this your trap?"

"Of course."

The warlock was quiet for a moment, waiting for the man to elaborate. Noticing that Galicwas planning on doing no such thing, Merlin continued with a raised eyebrow. "Might you get me out of it? I really must be on my way—"

"And where would a sorcerer like you be needing to go to?"

"I'm on an errand for the King."

"Ooooo. Think you're high and mighty, boy?"

"No, I just—"

"Because I don't like sorcerers who think they're all high and mighty. Means they're up to no good."

"I'm just—"

"Quiet boy," Galic snapped, pulling out a chain from his dark leather jacket. He walked towards the bound warlock, reaching towards Merlin's dangling hands.

"I really don't suggest you touch me," Merlin said as Galic approached him.

"Is that so?" The man narrowed his eyes at the boy, but his face split into a smile. "See, that's what they all say." With that, Galic lifted his hand and hit Merlin in the head with the chains, and everything went black.

* * *

Merlin woke to a bitter taste in his mouth and a throbbing head. He attempted to lift his hands, but all he did was tug on the chains that bound him tightly to the sides of a cage.

"_Tospringe,"_ he murmured, throat dry. No reaction. "_Tospringe!" _Still no good. Merlin groaned quietly and leaned his head back against the cold bars as he attempted to get an idea of where he was at. The warlock was seated inside a cage, arms pulled tightly to either end, restraining him completely. His ankles, too, were bound by rusting chains, to the bottom of his cage. A piece of rough fabric was tied tightly around his head. His skin itched where dried blood had caked it; his shirt was covered with it, as well.

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to piece together what had happened, but his head still swam. However, it didn't take long for his thoughts to be rudely awakened by a bucket of icy cold water.

"Good morning, Sunshine. How you feeling?" came the rough voice as Merlin spluttered, his head splitting in pain as his senses were wakened.

"Never better, "the warlock replied, his response making his keeper laugh.

"Got some spirit in you, eh? Won't last long here, " Galic said with a smile. Merlin looked around, his heart sinking in his chest when he saw his whereabouts.

Everything was gray or black, the only color being the red of the fires and crimson blood that seemed to cling to every surface. Workers in rags and chains were hitting the rocks about them with heavy pickaxes, cruel-eyed men and cold tall mountains their only audience. The sky was dark, and smoke curled up to the heavens, the thickness of it making it difficult to breathe.

"Welcome to The Mine, "Galic said with another laugh. "Time for the tour."

The man opened the cage door and unlocked Merlin's chains with an old worn key. But his freedom didn't last long, because soon Galic threw him out the door and chained the warlock's hands behind his back. Feet bound together, and Merlin stumbled forward, the chains heavy on his body.

"Walk, boy," Galic growled, and he half dragged, half shoved Merlin to a gargantuan cavern burrowing into a mountain face. Bonfires glowed in every corner, and seated at the end of the cave was a fat man with a long scar across his left eye and a vicious looking dagger in his pudgy hand.

"Ahh, Galic. I was wondering when you'd be coming. What do we have here?" He picked his filthy nails with the tip of the blade casually, regarding Merlin with a mild interest.

"A sorcerer, my Lord." Galic pushed Merlin to his knees in front of the fat man. "Found him at the edge of the wood. Said he was on an errand for the King, and he was carrying this." Merlin's heart plummeted as Galic handed his Lord Merlin's map. The fat man took it in his pudgy fingers, looking at its surface.

"What's this?" The fat man's eyes narrowed. "I don't see nothing."

Merlin looked questioningly at him, and as he craned his head to look at his map, he saw that there wasn't a mark on the yellowed sheet at all. In fact, it was completely blank.

The fat man looked down at the bound warlock, his dark eyes searching Merlin's pale face. "What is this, boy? An enchanted parchment?"

"No. It's just a blank sheet of paper I carry around for sketching new plants I come across. See, I'm part of the King's court. I was sent to Lancaster Wood to document any new plants I could find," Merlin lied, stuttering convincingly.

"Said you was on an errand for the King, so if so, where are your supplies, boy? And ain't you too young to be part of the King's court?"

"I'm an apprentice," Merlin replied. "As for my supplies—well, I lost them. Fell off my horse when I was riding and off it went with all my things. I'd been wandering around for days when I was caught in your man's trap."

"Is that so? Galic said he saw you use magic."

"I can do a bit; my mum taught me a few spells."

"Did she now?" The fat man smiled wickedly, reaching out his dirty hands to stroke Merlin's pale face, and when he reached the boy's head wound, he pressed on it, drawing a gasp of pain from the warlock. "Well, she ain't here now, boy."

He withdrew his hand and wiped it on his dirty leather shirt. "From here on out, you answer to me. You will call me _my Lord_. Don't try to run-your chains are bewitched so that you can't use magic on them. If you do somehow manage to get out of your chains, we'll kill you before you move two feet. Understood?"

"But the King will be expecting me—"

"No one sends search parties out here. Know where we are? We're in the Dark Mountains. No one will find you even if they tried." The fat man turned to Galic. "Take him down into the Mine, starve him of the sun a bit. Tell Olaf to get him to work."

"My lord." Galic leaned in, attempting to whisper, however failing miserably because Merlin could here every word that left his thin lips. "The boy, in the forest, he threatened me. Said I'd regret touching him, and he looked dangerous, my Lord. I don't believe he's just a herb hugger." (The lilly livered coward.)

"Look at him, Galic-barely a scrap of meat on him. He's a stuttering fool, and even if he is more powerful than he makes himself out to be, he'll lose that power after just a week of work. Now, man up. He's just a boy. See." The man stood up and kicked Merlin in the face. "Nothing to be afraid of. Now go do what you're told."

The warlock's head hung low as he recovered from the blow, his nose dripping blood. Galic, emboldened by his master's move, lifted Merlin by the scruff his neck and dragged him out of the cavern. The warlock struggled to catch his feet on the gray gravel, and just as he managed to walk, he was thrown down a flight of stairs into a dark cavern. Merlin coughed up blood at the bottom of the steps, the warm liquid filling his mouth from what he supposed was a broken tooth and a bitten tongue, his whole body on fire.

"On your feet, boy," Galic said happily, kicking the warlock in the abdomen. Blood dribbled from his lip as Merlin used the wall to help himself up. The heavy-set man shoved Merlin forward down the tunnel, past tens of workers slaving on at the sides. When finally Merlin felt like he was going to collapse, Galic kicked the back of his knees, and the warlock fell face first on the hard floor. He coughed up pebbles, dust, and blood, his head swimming.

"Olaf, here's a new worker for ya. He's a bitch, so work him hard."

"You know me, Galic, I don't know how to do it any other way."

The men above the warlock laughed, and Galic's retreating footsteps left Merlin alone with another hellish captor. He didn't have time to lift himself up off the ground before Olaf put a heavy boot on Merlin's neck. Groaning in pain as the man pressed hard on him, his sharp boot cutting the boy's pale skin. He then proceeded to lean down and whisper in the boy's ear, his breath warm and rancid on Merlin's face.

"There are 3 rules, boy. 1. Work. 2. Follow orders. 3. Don't try to get away. It's simple enough. Follow those rules, and we won't hurt you—too bad." The man lifted his boot off of Merlin's neck and lifted him roughly off the ground, taking a good look at him. Olaf was a big man, how much of it was muscle and how much of it was fat, Merlin couldn't tell. He was dressed in a long leather apron, just like a butcher, and like a butcher's, his apron was covered with—you guessed it my brilliant reader-blood. "There are 24 hours a day. You sleep 3 of them, you work 20 of them, you rest 1 of them. Clear?"

"As crystal," Merlin coughed, throat sore.

"Good. You start work tomorrow; you'll be working with five other men. They'll be your family. Where they go, you go. What they do, you do. For the five of you, there will be two guards. Since Galic doesn't like you, and one of my men died yesterday, you'll be joining my family." Olaf put his arm around Merlin's thin shoulders, guiding him down another flight of stairs and through another hallway to a large room. Taking a good look at it, Merlin realized it must be where they put the prisoners. The floor was covered in grates, walkways separating one from another. Olaf led the warlock to one such grate, pulled it open, and tossed the boy in without so much as a glance as to who might be below.

"Nighty night. See you bright and early tomorrow," the jailer said with mock sweetness, his wide face splitting to reveal a wide variety of yellowed and broken teeth. And with that wretched smile, Olaf pulled the grate closed and locked it with a loud and resonating, leaving Merlin broken and exhausted in the dark, with absolutely no strength to face what might be down there with him.

**YAY FOR CLIfFIES! You haven't encountered them yet, but this is the first of many (sorry, need to keep you hooked somehow), and I think for a first this is pretty decent and kind. So, basically, if you hadn't realized -the whole 'setting up the story', it's over. Now to the action. Because the action has started, I have a few comments about violence, just so you are aware:**

**1. Whenever there is something like violence, or sexuality, in the chapter, I WILL WARN YOU. Just for triggering issues, etc. etc. So look for those at the beginning of each chapter. **

**2. If you are reading the chapter and you find the description to be too much, no problem. Just message me and I will send you an edited version of the chapter without the violence if you want to continue reading and find out what happens at the end. **

**3. The violence, depending on the plot point, can last several chapters. I do my best to give you a break with fluffy chapters and scenes, but the violence can get a bit much. If it become gratuitous, please, please, please, please, please, tell me. The violence shouldn't be overwhelming, so if my writing become vulgar than just say it and I'll edit. **

**Reviews. Thank you so so so very much. Honestly, they are for both me and you. It lets me know if people are interested, what are the high-points and what things you enjoy so I can continue incorporating things like that into later chapters. Writing a little something in that magical white box and pressing the pretty blue button is so so appreciated, you have no idea. If you have nothing to say about the chapter, DROP BY AND FANGIRL. Trust me, I will happily shriek along with you. Just be sure to type spoiler at the beginning for those of us who aren't caught up. **

**thanks again to Merlyn and her brilliant beta-ing ( gods, you guys would not want to SEE the first draft).**

**thANK YOU aGAIN SO SO SO VERY MuCH! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!**

**-ladywarlock**


	4. The Mine

**Hello again! I know, I'm early, but I have a long break so I thought I'd publish a chapter, do you mind?**

_**Song: So Cold: Breaking Benjamin**_

**Warning: Blood, violence, torture. This chapter could also trigger, so please be careful. It's also this chapter that'll tell me how far you want me to go violence wise. After this you can tell me," yeah kick it up a notch", or "no this is great", or" O MY GOD LADYWARLOCK WHAT IS YOUR SICK MIND COMING UP WITH" (I honestly don't think it's that bad, but maybe that's because I've read it about a million times. **

**Hope you enjoy it!**

"Look at him. He's just a boy. Won't survive two days. Why waste our supplies on him?"

"Because he's a prisoner here just the same, and he needs help."

"We all need help."

"Would you have wanted me to deny you the aid I gave you when you first arrived?"

The voices continued arguing over Merlin's head as he groggily woke up—he didn't even remember passing out. He groaned in pain as the reality of his situation kicked in, and more parts of him ached than he even knew could. For example, Merlin never thought you could have a sore eyebrow, but there he lay, every hair in his thick brow throbbing.

"He's awake."

"No shit, Gandalf."

"Lad, can you hear me?" Merlin nodded his head slightly in response to the worried voice next to him. "I need you to open your eyes," the man continued, and the warlock replied by opening his swollen lids, blue eyes blinking furiously in the dark. After a few moments getting used to the black, Merlin could make out the figures of two men leaning over him.

"There you go, laddie, "another gravelly voice whispered in the darkness, and Merlin turned to see another figure kneeling next to him.

"Where am I?" he choked, throat impossibly dry.

"You're in The Mine. What's your name?"

"Merlin."

"Well, Merlin, welcome to the closest thing to hell you'll find in this world."

A shiver crawled up Merlin's spine as he remembered all that had happened, and as he attempted to get up, a warm hand helped him so that he was seated looking at the figures of five men. The pain overwhelmed him for a moment, and when the spots cleared from his vision, he looked around at his prison. It was a small hole deep in the ground, moist soil beneath him and hard stone making up the cold walls. And that was another detail that made the prison only more distressing—it was so cold. Freezing, bitter, wet, cold, cold, cold. Merlin wrapped his thin arms around himself as he watched his breath—the only thing he could see clearly—rise from his chapped lips and up to the small squares of light far above, up to freedom.

"I know, it's a lot to take in." Merlin looked back at the dark figures, strangely frustrated that he couldn't make out any details. It was too dark to differentiate one person from another. But the voice continued, ignorant of the warlock's raving thoughts. "We can't introduce ourselves here, but when we get to work, you'll soon get to know us very well. Now, you have maybe an hour before we have to work. I suggest you sleep; it's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"…Alright. Umm…thank you," Merlin said softly, unsure of his cracking voice.

"I did very little, because there is little I can do. Now rest, everyone."

After a few murmurs and groans, Merlin watched as the figures flattened out, and soon an arm tugged him closer so that he was sandwiched in the warmth of two people. Before he knew it, Merlin was fast asleep, mind still swimming with all that had happened.

* * *

"Up and at 'em boys. There are rocks to break and jewels to mine."

The hard voice followed a bucket of icy cold water that came down on the sleeping men. Merlin jerked up, regretting it soon after as his body protested. A man leaned in and whispered in Merlin's ear.

"Olaf is going to throw down some ropes. You climb them to get to the top. Speak only when instructed to, and do whatever they ask you."

Merlin didn't have time to thank the man before a thick rope was dropped to him, and the boy hurriedly climbed it, ignoring his groaning muscles. He scrambled to the top, and a large hand pulled him by the scruff of the neck over the edge. His ankles were still chained, but his captor unlocked the tight lengths that had bound the boy's hands all night.

Blinking in the sudden light, Merlin adjusted as best he could to his surroundings. Men all around were being pulled from their cells and given small husks of moldy bread, one of which Merlin scarfed down quickly. His stomach happy for any kind of nourishment it could get. Torches lined the walls, and Merlin soon found himself being pushed by a man with gray hair and deep wrinkles. The man led him down a few tunnels and to a dead end, handing him a pickaxe without so much as a word when they stopped. Gray Hair then proceeded to hit the wall in front of him, and three others filed in past the boy, using their own pickaxes to toil.

"Work," a man with black hair murmured to him, not looking at the boy. Merlin nodded and lifted the axe, testing its weight and finding it heavier than he would have liked, but despite it, he lifted it over his shoulder and hit the stone in front of him. The impact jarred his shoulder. Merlin grit his teeth and did it again, and again, and again. Suddenly the warlock was working, not looking back as he pounded at the rock before him with four other men, dust and stones flying at him.

When he had gotten the hang of it, Merlin risked a look behind him. Olaf stood, leaning against a wall; whip in one hand, drumstick of rich red meat in another. Another man stood in a similar manner, both men more interested in the food than at the men slaving before them. Shifting his gaze away, Merlin looked curiously at the men in his so called "family". The gray-haired man worked at his right, and even farther right was a superbly, to put it delicately—large, and to put it indelicately—fat, man with the frighteningly red hair. To Merlin's left worked the black haired men, hair cropped short, his arms bare, and muscles rippling. Working at the end was a man with such blonde hair it might as well be white, and his scrawniness competed with Merlin's own thin figure.

"Hey, newbie, get to work or you'll find yourself whipped," a gruff voice said from behind him, and Merlin turned quickly to see the other guard—bald—walking towards him menacingly.

"Sorry, Sir." Merlin stuttered, and then went back to work, focusing his thoughts only on the rock before him. However, it didn't take long for his arms to weaken and turn to jelly, his shoulders to burn, and suddenly the axe was the weight of the world, and the stone as hard as steel. Sweat poured down Merlin's pale features, and the heat from the torches combined with the heat and body odor of the other workers made for such a stuffy and hot atmosphere that Merlin found himself missing the terrible cold of the cells. But he didn't stop, he knew—even with that being his first day—that the guards would have no qualms with whipping him should even pause to catch his breath. However, the fear did not stop his muscles from groaning, and his breath from quickening with the relentless, mind-numbing work. And just when Merlin felt he would soon collapse, the guards called the work to a stop.

The warlock let the pickaxe fall hesitantly to the ground, and he followed suit when he saw his companions do the same. Merlin groaned quietly as he hit the floor, wiping the sticky sweat from his brow. A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Merlin turned to see the black-haired man nod appreciatively at him.

"Good work, laddie, good work for your first day. My name is Aeneas."

"Than…thanks," Merlin stuttered, his voice failing him after being unused in so long.

The man nodded, and then proceeded to point out their companions. "White hair over there, he's Paris. We call the old man here Doc 'cause he's the oldest and has been here longest, pudgy over there is Bofur."

"I thought I saw five men in the cell last night."

"Oh, that was probably Bofur's magnificent silhouette."

"Oh, okay."

The two men fell into an awkward silence, Merlin picking the scabs that littered his arms. But before he could get comfortable, Olaf called them to work again, and Merlin rose to his feet—swaying slightly. Aeneas steadied him and handed Merlin his pickaxe. "Come on, laddie. Round two and then we'll have lunch." Merlin thanked him, but he didn't get to work, his attention instead focused on Paris.

The man hadn't gotten up.

Next to him, Aeneas bent down and shook Paris's shoulder. "Come on, Paris, time to work," the man whispered, his voice becoming frantic. But the scrawny man only moaned, eyes fluttering and closing again. Then Aeneas did something that surprised Merlin.

He left Paris alone.

The black-haired man noticed Merlin's gaze. "There's nothing we can do. Get to work." Merlin's horror grew as Aeneas picked up his own axe and proceeded to work without so much as another glance at the man lying sickly on the ground next to him. The others set to work as well, and with another glance at Paris, Merlin began to pound on the wall with his pickaxe, too. But his attention was soon on Olaf, who was walking towards the blonde-haired figure, whip lifted menacingly.

When the blow fell, Merlin shivered, his axe staying as his attention was consumed at the man on the floor who, despite the hard blow, remained there. Aeneas cast him a warning look, and Merlin remembered himself, getting back to work and ignoring the cries of pain that grew steadily louder to his left with every smack of iron casted whip length. He instead focused on the rock, focused on the consistency of his axe hitting the stone, focused on the sound of the axe ringing on the hard wall. But it did nothing to drown the screams when Olaf replaced the whip with a pick axe.

After Olaf threw the men—now four—into the cell that evening, Merlin didn't even bother straightening himself from where he lay. He hadn't eaten lunch, and the long day had exhausted his thoughts from him. But soon, he lifted himself from the ground and walked towards the bucket that the men used for waste, and promptly vomited in it.

Aeneas's hand settled on his back, rubbing comforting circles into the boy's skin as tears mingled with the vomit as the warlock collapsed—his emotions getting the best of him.

"I'm sorry you had to see something like that the first day," Doc said from behind him. "But you'd best get used to it."

Merlin wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve, turning to the old man with growing anger. "How could you just leave him like that? You left him to die."

"Boy, everyone dies here. Had we lifted a finger, you'd find yourself being thrown to the crows as well. We help each other as best we can, but when a man doesn't get up, that's his funeral—you mustn't let it be yours as well," Bofur replied sharply.

Merlin lifted his head in an attempt to stop the tears, his breath ragged. Then the Doc crawled towards him and wrapped the young warlock in a tight embrace. In the man's old arms, Merlin pictured himself in Gaius's, and his tears overflowed again as he thought of the old physician's familiar smell. Thinking of Gaius, he thought of home, of the quarters that always smelled like herbs, of the rays of the sun shining through the window. And with thoughts of home brought thoughts of Gwen, of her warm smile and her scent—flowers and vanilla. He missed being in her arms, the way her curly hair tickled his nose as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. He missed them all, god damn it, he even missed Surevres.

"You've seen too little winters to be down here, boy, but you must be strong,"the old man whispered into Merlin's matted hair.

Merlin pulled himself away from Doc's embrace, wiping away his tears and righting himself. And for a second, Doc could have sworn he saw a flare of gold in those young eyes, but he dismissed it. Straightening his back, Merlin played with his hands—already blistered and bloody from a single day—cracking his knuckles in silence before turning to the older men around him, painfully aware how much younger he was than them. "So, how do we get out of here?"

"Excuse me?" Aeneas asked in surprise.

"How do we get of here?" Merlin repeated. "There has to be some way out."

"There isn't. Everything has already been tried." Bofur's eyes narrowed. "Don't even think of doing anything, boy. You'll bring us down with you."

"So you'd prefer to remain here until all your energy is spent, where the only door to freedom is death?"

"Yes, and I prefer to live as long as I can—"

"-As a rat in the dark? To die as nothing more than a slave whose life is worthless, forgotten by any who once loved you?"

"What do you want us to do?" Doc said, gaze locked on Merlin. "We are powerless in these chains, and the guards are around us at all times."

"Is there any time of day when the chains come off?"

"Yes—when you're dead," Bofur replied. "Now enough talk of escape. We have only a few hours to sleep before we have to get back to work and thank you very much, but I'd prefer not to sleep on the job."

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but shut up when all three men threw him a look. The boy sighed and curled up, the sweat soon freezing on his brow as the cold overtook him again, the only warmth he had that of the men sleeping next to him. And with the image Paris's beaten body haunting his closed eyes, Merlin fell to sleep again.

_She was brushing her long dark hair, deep emerald dress hugging her curves as she sat in front of a large mirror. He couldn't see her face, but Merlin felt warmth inside as he approached her. He put a hand on her shoulder, but when he leaned in to kiss her, he found that her face was Paris's—eyeball oozing from its socket, half of the face crushed in, blood everywhere._

_"See what you've done to me, __"she __whispered with her honey-sweet voice, hand suddenly bloody and reaching towards him-_

Merlin jerked awake, covered in a cold sweat, heart racing. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the terrifying images that whispered in his dreams. He looked around him, turning to find the three men around him fast asleep—blissfully unaware of the warlock's nightmare. Merlin settled down quietly, but was wide awake, and remained so until the bucket of water woke the others to another day of hell.

A week passed before anything eventful happened—or at least, that's what Merlin thought. The long hours had come to blur together, every minute hell, every second torture. Mind numbing work and little sleep had left the warlock with so little energy that he couldn't even think of escape. But still a little voice inside him whispered rebellion, and his heart grew angrier with every passing moment.

It was the break after lunch when everything changed. Merlin was stretched on the floor, silent, as were his companions—no one had energy by this time of the day, and small chatter was a waste of breath.

"To work, men," Olaf called out, and Merlin lifted himself onto his feet, turning to work again when he found that Doc hadn't risen.

"Come on, Doc, it's time." Merlin shook the old man, who groaned at the boy's touch. "You have to get up." His heart sunk as the man didn't respond. "Come _on,_Doc," he said again. _Don't do this to me._

Aeneas wrenched Merlin away, eyes locking with his in warning. "There is nothing we can do," he mouthed and went to work, but Merlin could see the tears in his eyes.

After all, you can't help but come to care for the people you're enslaved with.

Bofur, too, looked tortured as he glanced at the old man on the ground, but his many days spent in the endless dark had hardened his heart and he went back to work. Merlin tore his eyes away from his friend and went back to it, his heart heavier than the pick axe that he held in his torn hands.

When Olaf hit the old man, Merlin jerked at Doc's groan. Again. And again. Then Merlin did something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid—he listened to the whisper of rebellion that dwelled deep in his chest.

"Stop!" the warlock cried and he dropped the pick axe, shielding Doc from another blow. "Please, he just needs some rest."

"Does he, now?" Olaf said, unable to hide his shock.

"Yes, please, Sir, just give him the rest of the day. I beg of you. "

"Oh, I'd be happy, too." The thick man leaned towards Merlin, but the boy only straightened his back and swallowed his fear. "I'll give him the rest of the day, but I'm afraid that my whip isn't sated—"

"—Then I'll take his place." Merlin blurted out, ignoring Aeneas's looks.

This shocked Olaf further, and perhaps it was his shock that kept Merlin alive. "Fine. I'll put the old man back in the cells, then it'll be your turn. Follow me."

Olaf pulled Doc to his feet, and Merlin shot his friends one last look, doing his best to look unafraid as he followed the heavy set man. The warden threw Doc into their cell, and as Merlin continued to follow Olaf, he could hear the old man's protests from deep within the hole. But Merlin ignored him and followed Olaf deeper into the monstrous caverns.

He led the boy deeper than he had ever been in the Mine, but sooner than Merlin would have liked, the large man took Merlin through a set of large doors.

"Welcome to the Punishment Chamber." Olaf informed him cheerily. "I'm sure you'll be _dying _to see this place more often."

If anyone were to ask Merlin to describe that space, the first thing he would describe would be the awful stench. The room reeked of blood, vomit, and filth. Screams wracked the air, and in every corner there was a man whose blood fell to the floor, mingling with the blood of countless others before him.

There was a man stretched on a table, pulled beyond his body's capability, men looming over him, cutting him open.

There was a man lying naked on the floor, body covered in blood, torn clothes covering the floor as a man above him refastened his trousers.

There was a man screaming as poison was dripped into his eyes.

And there were many others, but Merlin's attention was focused away from them and onto himself as Olaf called over two large guards that stood chatting in the corner. They led the warlock to a tall wooden beam, roughly shoving him against it, his arms pulled hard to the other side so that his chest felt like it was about to split open. One of them tore open the back of his shirt, and Merlin suddenly felt a gloved hand stroking his spine.

"I'd forgotten you were a bare-back. I'm going to enjoy this," Olaf whispered softly in his ear, humid breath making the hairs at the back of his neck rise.

Merlin readied himself, but no amount of preparation could ready him from the pain that that first blow wrought. He let out an unwarranted cry as the iron-tipped length licked down his bare skin, and like fire, it seemed to set his body aflame. Then came a second, and a third, and a fourth-and soon the pain kept Merlin from counting.

But the warlock wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing his screams, and he bit his lip to keep himself from doing so. Soon blood dribbled down his face, and spots began to appear in his vision. The world became dulled, and he saw black. But every time the whip sliced his skin, he was pulled roughly into red reality, for a moment the blast of pain making everything terribly sharp. The crimson of the blood on the wood before his eyes, the pain of the splinters breaking into his arms and chest, the feel of something warm dripping down his back and onto his legs and chest. The taste of something metallic, harsh, and bitter in his mouth. Every last blow was worse than the next, and it didn't take long for his resolve to die within him, and his throat was soon raw with the screams they pulled from his thin body.

When the lashes finally ended, Merlin began to dip in and out of awareness. He was dragged to the cells, and there he was thrown roughly down into the cold hole. The boy screamed again as he landed on his back, the pain ripped away his consciousness, and he finally fell into the bliss of darkness.

**Good, bad, average? Please tell me in the reviews! Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, you have no idea how much it means to me!**

**Next chapter up by Wednesday? Does that sound good?**

**Until next time,**

**-ladywarlock**


	5. Rebellion

**Not that long between chapters this time, due to my free time!**

_**Song: Red: Taylor Swift**_

**Warnings: As per last chapter**

**Hope you like it!**

Merlin woke to extraordinary pain. His back burned a thousand fires, and his throat ached. It took a few moments to take a hold of his bearings, to remind himself that he was far from his bed back home.

"Merlin," a voice whispered. The warlock groaned in response and he heard a relieved laugh.

"You're the stupidest boy I've ever met," Aeneas said, but Merlin could hear the fondness in his tone.

"Thank you," Merlin replied, his voice hoarse and weak, eyes still closed.

"Can you get up?"

"Probably not."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. You've slept all night, and Olaf will be here soon to get us to work."

Merlin moaned at his words, but began the painstaking process of getting up from his position lying on his stomach. It took a while, but soon the warlock was seated, his friend's muscled arm keeping him from falling over. The pain was overwhelming, and the young boy nearly passed out, but when the spots finally cleared from his blurred vision, he felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace.

"You shouldn't have done that, but I can't thank you enough for doing it," Doc whispered in the boy's ear.

"Just don't make me do it again." Merlin gave him a sheepish smile.

"I'll do my best," the old man replied softly.

The two looked at each other for a moment; however, they were soon interrupted by Bofur's deep voice.

"Well, now that the tearful reunion is over, we have to get down to business."

"What business?" Merlin looked at the fat man curiously.

"We were talking and have decided to go with what you were saying a few days ago—we need to find a way out of this hell hole or we'll all be dead within the week. Anyway, you won't even last that long if that back isn't given proper treatment. We wrapped the wounds with what's left of your shirt, but you need medication fast to stop infection."

Merlin nodded, looking down at himself to find his torso wrapped in his red tunic—or had it been blue? "What are we going to do?"

"See, that's the problem. Getting out of here would be simple if we could use our magic for a second, but the wardens are good at ensuring that we are chained at all times. He knows just how destructive one of us could be," Aeneas said simply.

"Do the chains vary in strength?"

"What do you mean?"

Merlin played with the shackles around his hands. "If there are chains where the spells on them are weakened, maybe our magic could break through them—if only for a second."

"The oldest chains are in the torture chamber, the blood of sorcerers has weakened their power." Doc's voice was bitter, and Merlin didn't miss his glance at the boy's bandaged chest. "But the problem is that if you ever find yourself in those chains, it means that you are either being tortured or dying, so no one can focus on calling on magic or even remembering a spell to get free."

"But some of us don't need spells…" Merlin murmured to himself.

"Sorry?"

"I need to get back into that chamber," the warlock said firmly, mind working fast.

"Whoa, there, you can't go in there now, you're too weak. To go back in there so soon would kill you, and you're no use to us dead," Bofur replied.

"It's the only chance we have; as you said, we don't have much time."

"At least wait two days, just to get your strength back. Remember, even if you do get yourself free, you'll have to fight your way through The Mine—you can't do that if you are as weak as you are now." Aeneas clapped a hand on the warlock's shoulder. "Anyway, why should you go? One of us can—"

"It should be me," Merlin interrupted. "I can use my magic without spells. They won't notice that I'm getting free until it's too late."

"I've never heard of magic being done without spells…" Bofur said suspiciously.

"Yeah, well, I'm a little different. You see—" Merlin was stopped by a wave of cold water that hit them all, leaving them spluttering in surprise. Nervousness gripped the warlock—how could he work in the state he was in? Aeneas seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he climbed the rope right after the young man to ensure he kept going and didn't fall.

Merlin reached the surface to Olaf's leering smile. "Not sure if I can allow this…" The butcher-like villain said, fingering the tightly bound fabric that wrapped the sorcerer's chest. He then pulled out a knife and cut Merlin's side, breaking through both mock bandage and skin. The warlock cried out in pain despite himself when Olaf ripped off the fabric, his back bleeding again as the guard tore open the scabs. Merlin doubled over and barely made it to their workspace, Aeneas's hand the only thing keeping him upright.

The pain only got worse when Doc handed Merlin his pick axe, and with every lift of the tool, his back was torn further. Warm blood trickled down his skin and itched as it dried. But Merlin knew better than to stop, even going quicker when Olaf whipped him to work faster. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, and that night, they whispered out a plan, Doc keeping his fear for Merlin a secret as he studied the warlock's worsening state. They kept like that for three days—long enough for Merlin to get used to his constant state of pain.

The day finally came, and as they worked, Aeneas kept shooting the warlock looks, mouthing the same thing every time: "You don't have to do this." But Merlin ignored him and swallowed his pain and fear—he would get out of this hell hole, dead or alive. He couldn't—wouldn't stay another day without the sun.

It was midway through the day when Merlin made his move. The boy collapsed to the floor, head lolling back in exhaustion. Olaf sauntered towards him, whip lifted menacingly.

"Get to work."

Merlin looked up at him with sharp eyes. "Hmm…not in the mood."

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

Olaf grit his teeth, grabbing the warlock by the neck, but before he could hurt the boy, Merlin swung the pick axe that was still tightly gripped in his hand, hitting it with all his might at the man. The tool landed with a sickening crack and Olaf screamed, letting go of the warlock to clutch his now bloodied face. The other guard smacked Merlin on the head—making the young man see stars—but he dared not do anything further before tending to his fallen companion. He rushed to Olaf's side, cursing as he saw the damage the axe had done. A whole half of Olaf's face was dented in, and bit of splintered skull stuck out here and there, one eye completely gone. However, miraculously—and much to the onlooker's dismay—the large man had avoided any mortal damage. The other guard called in help and they towed Olaf away as he still screamed bloody murder. They then turned their pea-sized brains to the slave who had done the damage, dragging him towards the torture chamber where they promptly knocked him senseless to await further trial.

When Merlin awoke next, he was aware of an aching throb in his arms, and he looked up to see that he was chained to a horizontal bar attached to the ceiling, his torso covered in blood—how much of it was his own and how much of it was Olaf's, he couldn't tell. His attention turned to the chains that manacled his hands. He didn't have much time before the guards arrived with every intention of killing him (most probably slowly) because of what he had done to Olaf. The warlock closed his eyes and willed his magic to come to the surface.

Nothing.

He tried again and again, but still nothing. Merlin began to panic. If he couldn't get out of these chains, then they would surely kill him and the other members of his slave family, and that was one thing Merlin couldn't bear to think about. But his morbid thoughts were not long lived, because in came a group of five guards and (much to Merlin's delight) a very bandaged Olaf. At the moment, the aforementioned was seething with rage. The doctor had managed to dull his pain, but Olaf was adamant that he would see to Merlin's death himself before he was stitched up.

"Not so brave are you now, boy? All chained up like a lamb to slaughter," he sneered.

"What are you so angry about, Olaf? It's not like you had any looks that I could ruin in the first place—to be honest, I think I did you a favor. Having half of your face bludgeoned in must do well with the ladies—" Olaf stopped him with a hard smack that Merlin was sure had cracked some of his teeth.

"I am _going_ to _kill_ you, you _worthless rat_, and I am _going_ to do it _slowly_ and _painfully_, and I am _going_ to _enjoy_ every minute of it."

Olaf nodded to the other guards, who walked towards Merlin and began to beat him—some with sticks and some with gloved hands. When they had surely bruised and broken every bone in his body, they stopped and pulled back. Coughing up blood, the warlock struggled to keep himself conscious, but the pain muddled his thoughts. Olaf walked behind him, taking in the boy's torn back, and very carefully, the big man took a knife and began to slice open each of Merlin's whip wounds.

The guards watching soon grew sick of the screams.

Finishing his work on the final scar, Olaf gripped Merlin's face with his bloodied hands, showering the boy with his rancid breath.

"Now let me tell you what's going to happen, boy. This is going to drag on for days, and do you know what's going to happen that day I plan to kill you? I'm going to call in each of your little friends and I'm going to make you watch as I tear off their limbs." Olaf laughed, but his mirth faltered when he thought he caught a flash of gold in those pain-dulled blue eyes.

Merlin looked up at him and replied to his captor with calm, even words. "Threaten me, torture me, kill me, but lay a finger on my friends and I will rip you apart."

"How?"

"Like this."

The guards in the room screamed in pain and they clutched their heads, blood running from every pore in their body as Merlin's magic forced it from their veins. Chains above the warlock cracked and Merlin fell to the floor where he unlocked the bonds on his ankles. Then the warlock straightened as Olaf backed away in shock and fear. "That's impossible. The chains, you can't—"

"Now let me tell you what's really going to happen—I'm going to destroy your _Mine_, and I'm going to make you watch, and then I'm going to hand you over to the hundreds you've enslaved and I'm going to see what they do to you." Merlin said coldly, all the while his magic on overdrive—anger channeling his power. All around him, guards were flung to the stone walls and their captives' chains unlocked; soon Merlin wasn't the only one using magic.

"Clear?" he said coolly. Then the warlock's eyes burned gold and he lifted his hand, sending Olaf flying towards the wall at the other end of the room. The sickening thud was followed by a short scream, and Merlin didn't look back as he stepped over Olaf's dying body.

And they continued like that, their numbers growing, and no one could stand in their way. Merlin, comfortable that the slaves were well in control, ran to where Doc, Aeneas, and Bofur remained chained, shuddering in anticipation as the sounds of rebellion reached their eager ears.

"Merlin!" Aeneas grinned elatedly as the warlock slid towards them, unlocking their chains with a glow of gold.

"Come on!" The warlock pushed into the crowd of sorcerers rushing through the caverns, their bottled-up magic a force the guards had no chance against. Rage fueled the slaves as they fought their way towards the long missed sun, and the caves echoed the sounds of triumphant and dying screams.

Merlin held up his hand as a guard rushed towards him with a long sword, and the attacker soon found himself at the other side of the room, bones cracked. Turning around, the warlock caught sight of Aeneas wrestling with a guard, and Doc walking slowly through seas of people, eyes burning a seemingly permanent gold. _It's almost too easy…_Merlin thought to himself as the guards raced towards the exits to escape the onslaught of sorcerers.

"Light!" the people next to him cried and pointed to the end of the dark tunnel, and Merlin didn't hesitate to run alongside them as they fought their way to freedom, as they fought their way to the sun. When the light first hit him, it burned his eyes and skin, blinding him. But his pupils dilated and slowly accustomed to the brightness and Merlin laughed out loud. He had never loved the sun more than in that instant. Around him slaves cheered and smiled—both things they had long thought they couldn't do anymore. However, Merlin's heart grew heavier, and his unease grew with every passing moment. The guards were gathering at the foot of the trees, looking at the sorcerers in dismay. _Why aren't they running?_

He didn't have to wait for an answer.

"DRAGON!" someone screamed to his right, and Merlin turned to the sky where he saw a dark shape circling them. All around him, the once exuberant yells became screams of terror and the slaves retreated into the caverns from whence they had come.

"Stand your ground!" Merlin turned to see Aeneas screaming beside him.

"STAND YOUR GROUND!" the dark-haired man yelled, eyes glowing gold. Merlin took his lead and began to scream the same, and soon the slaves calmed and stood beside them.

The sky darkened and Merlin's breath left his body as he caught sight of the creature that he had been sent from Glendale to meet—the great dragon and lord of the sky Kilgarrah. The dragon was gargantuan, even more than Merlin had thought, and the creature's scales rippled as it landed on the ground before them with an impact that shook the earth beneath their feet. Both sides were silent for a moment, and then the dragon opened his mouth and let out a wave of flame at the newly freed peoples.

"_Chistian," __Merlin_ put his hand up, his shield blocking the fire—something that had never happened before. Kilgarrah stopped and the warlock followed suit. Then the dragon did what Merlin never would have expected—it laughed.

"Well well well," it said in a deep voice, its chuckles shaking the ground, looking down at the bloodied and bare-chested warlock. "What do we have here? A sorcerer with enough power to challenge me. That's new."

"I'm not here to challenge you," Merlin said, attempting to keep his voice from quavering, but the magic still rushed through him and gave him strength enough to speak to the awesome beast before him.

"Then what are you here for?" the dragon asked, sounding rather amused.

"I'm here with my comrades to escape imprisonment."

"I can't allow you to do that," Kilgarrah said with a sigh.

"Why not?"

"Because half the jewels they mine go to me, and I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to part from that great gift."

Merlin looked up at the dragon in shock, and admittedly, disappointment. "I'd heard that dragons were noble creatures that cared for the people. I never thought that such majestic beings were juvenile enough to fall under the spell of glittering gifts."

"Our involvement and care for people has only lead to the near extinction of our race. We no longer care for the quarrels of man, so long as we reap the benefits."

"So the power of the dragons is lost?" Merlin asked defiantly, rage making him bold.

"How dare you! I could crush you in an instant!" the dragon roared, leaning in towards the warlock so that they were only inches apart. Merlin didn't flinch.

"Then why don't you?"The young man challenged.

Kilgarrah opened his mouth to reply, but instead narrowed his eyes and studied the seemingly insignificant being before him. "Who are you?"

"I'm nobody."

"Well, you sound like a somebody."

"Were I a somebody, you would have known who I was."

"Make no mistake, puny human, I know exactly who you are, so I know that you are a somebody traipsing as a nobody."

"I am a nobody traipsing as a nobody."

"In that, you are wrong, insolent mortal. No nobody would dare defy me."

"Then I must be the first."

Kilgarrah chuckled. "Yes, it seems that you are. Tell me, why should I let you and your friends go?"

"I am here because of my search for you. I've come from the court of Leodogrance, sent by the three sorcerers who teach there. They told me to find you. I had expected that you would give me the answers I seek, but it seems I was wrong. You are not the all knowing, noble, powerful creature I had expected to meet. So perhaps you should let us go, to prove that you are the magnificent being I was sent to find, and not the cowardly lizard I've found."

"I should kill you for your insolence."

"Yet still you continue to entertain me."

The dragon narrowed its golden eyes at Merlin, smoke curling from its great nostrils. "Yes. And though I would love to kill you, you are not fated to die at my hand. For that reason, I will leave, but heed my warning: should I see you again, I will not hesitate to break prophesy."

Merlin looked in surprise as the dragon turned to leave, and in the silence, one could have heard a pin drop. However, just as the creature unfurled its great wings, it turned back to the small figure.

"Before I go, I will give you one piece of information, for you'll need it in the coming months. Your coming here has set off a series of events that will bring into reality a prophesy-when the blood moon eclipses, you'll have to choose, and that choice will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms. Young warlock, you have powers that you know not of, but be warned, all magic comes at a price, and your sacrifice will be the greatest of them all. Be warned, Emrys, everything is about to change."

**ooo ominous words. I PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER I'LL GIVE YOU A BREAK FROM ALL THE GORE!**

**Was the chapter any good? Cyber cookie for anyone who tell me!**

**-ladywarlock**


	6. The Homesick and the Scarlet Clad

**Hey this is another long chapter, so get comfy! Break from all the gore though, so I think you'll enjoy the reprieve!**

_**Song: Stormy by Hedley**_

**I hope you like it!**

"Why is it that whenever I wake up, you're always hovering above me?"

Doc laughed as he looked down at the warlock. "So he lives. How are you feeling?"

Merlin turned his muddled focus back on his back, but he couldn't feel anything. In fact, he couldn't even feel his toes, let alone move any part of his being. "I actually can't feel anything..."

"Good, that's the way it's supposed to be. The druids have you drugged so that you can't feel the pain."

"More like drugged me so I can't feel my nether regions—wait, did you say druids?"

Chuckling, Doc leaned back in the chair next to Merlin's bed where the warlock lay on his stomach, bandaged from neck to waist. "You've been asleep for three days. All the magic you used drained what little energy you had left. In that time, some of the slaves who had once been druids led us to their camp, and here we've been resting and receiving treatment."

Merlin gaped at him. "Three days!"

"You were out like a rat hit with a frying pan."

"Thank you for that lovely description. Now when can I move again?"

"I can call in the druids now so that they can give you a remedy to reverse the numbing effects…but I have to warn you, Merlin, you're not going to like how you're feeling."

"Anything's better than feeling like a rat hit with a frying pan."

"Don't mock me."

However, despite Merlin's firm belief that he couldn't feel worse than he did waking up in that bed, it didn't take a minute without the numbing tonic for Merlin to wish for it back. But he bit his lip and swallowed the pain, for aching all over allowed his thoughts to sharpen and his mind to clear enough to look at his surroundings and make sense of them. He lay in a tent, cushioned with pillows and covered with blankets, all the warlock could really make out were the thin rays of sunlight that peeked in from the opening. Soon after he was rid of the numbness, Merlin fell asleep again, and when he woke next he found himself alone.

The pain had lessened enough for him to get up, and so he did, slowly clambering his way out the door, leaning heavily on a staff he had found at his bedside. Brushing away the coarse fabric of his new dwelling, Merlin soon found himself out in the sunlight. He allowed himself a minute to enjoy the sun's warm rays, lifting his head and breathing the fresh air that he had so missed in his stay in the caverns below the earth. Around him the druid camp was alive and bustling, littered with colors and peoples of all sorts. It was easy to recognize the miners—they all looked sickly and pale, but there was a joy and a life in their faces that had long been missing in their days of enslavement. Here he could hear laughter and loud conversations, filled with richly detailed stories of both terrible and wonderful adventures, and with those stories the miners paid back the druids for their kindness—even though the peaceful people needed no incentive to treat the needy.

In other words, it was paradise for a young warlock who had missed just this, the company of people laughing as though they were all destined to live in mirth for the rest of their days. Even though it couldn't be true, Merlin allowed the moment to fill him up, allowed himself to forget the ominous words spoken by the dragon only mere days ago.

"Merlin!" The young man turned to find himself enveloped in a warm embrace, Bofur's thick arms wrapped tightly around the warlock. At his wince, however, his companion pulled away with a quick apology, but the smile never left his face.

"We thought you were going to die! Gave us a right scare, boy."

"Sorry about that, I'll do my best not to repeat it," Merlin replied with a grin.

"Well don't make a promise on it; you have a knack for getting into trouble."

"I don't find trouble, it finds me."

"Be that as it may, we might as well enjoy the time when you are apart from it. Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Then let's go have some supper." With that, Bofur wrapped an arm around the boy's thin shoulders and chatted with him fondly as they made their way to one of the many fires. There they met Aeneas and Doc, and the small family, bonded not by blood but by companionship, settled down and exchanged tales as they ate the best meal they had had in a very long time.

Merlin couldn't have been happier.

But even as he laughed alongside the others, Merlin couldn't shake the words of the dragon from his mind. That night, after the others had retired, the warlock left his tent after a short fitful sleep plagued with nightmares—they seemed now to be the only dreams the boy was capable of having. Relying heavily on his cane to walk, Merlin made his way through the silent camp to the boundary, nodding to the guards as he took a seat in the dark, hoping that the silence could drown out his loud thoughts.

"You should rest. Your wounds won't heal if you don't."

Merlin turned around, startled, his eyes meeting those of a tall gray-haired druid clad in a long orange robe. The man smiled at the warlock and took a seat next to him on a log nearby, continuing in a comfortingly warm voice. "What troubles you?"

"When the dragon spoke to me, he said that I wasn't destined to die by his hand—that there was a prophesy in which I had to make a choice that would destroy or save the kingdoms, and he called me by a strange name-Emrys. I can't make head or tail of it…I just don't understand what it all means," Merlin confided, surprised as he said the words aloud to an utter stranger.

"I can help you a little with that, Merlin. Emrys is the name by which we druids call you, and the name you are known by to creatures of the Old Religion."

"But why should I even have a name? What makes me so special—"

"You should know by now that you are no ordinary sorcerer, Emrys. You are a creature that hasn't been seen in a very long time, a warlock, a question that has never been posed. You are more akin to a dragon than you are to a human, for you both have been forged by the power of the Old Religion. As a warlock, you are a being of magic, and a powerful magic, too. There was a prophesy written in the days before days, it foretold a terrible time where magic was persecuted and driven from the land—"

"The Great Purge…" Merlin murmured.

"Yes. The prophesy said that when the magic of the world was most threatened, a man would be born with great power, and he would be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. He, with the aid of the once and future King, would unite the lands of Albion, a time of prosperity and magic whose like will never be seen again. That man, Emrys, is you. And the King is none other than Arthur Pendragon."

"The son of Uther Pendragon? The son of a man whose father led to the persecution of magic in the first place?"

"Indeed."

"You must be joking."

"I'm afraid I'm not."

"Me? The most powerful sorcerer to ever live? No. Whatever you want, whomever you've been waiting for, you've got the wrong person."

"None of us choose our destinies, Emrys, and none of us can escape it."

"Say if you're right, then what was the dragon talking about when he mentioned the blood moon eclipsing?"

"That part of the prophesy has always been unclear. It is said that when the time of Albion is soon upon us, you will have to make a decision, and that decision will shape the fate of the seven kingdoms.

Merlin let out a startled laugh, looking wide-eyed at the druid across from him, astonishment lining his pale features. "And when am I supposed to make this decision?"

"In three years."

"Three years! And nobody bothered to tell me until now?!"

"It was said that you should be trained and protected, so that when the time comes for the eclipse, you will be well guided in your decision—"

"What is this choice? What choice do I have to make?"

"Nobody knows."

"Well that's bloody helpful," Merlin snapped, but he quickly calmed down and sighed, breathing out heavily. "I'm sorry, it's just a lot to take in."

"Of course, Emrys, it is a terrible burden, and I am sorry that it was I who had to tell you of it. Now, go rest, you've been through quite the ordeal."

Merlin nodded. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure. Never forget, Emrys, you are not alone." The man gave the warlock a quick bow before rising, disappearing into the misty wood before Merlin had a chance to reply. The young man sighed again and looked up, the canopy just thin enough so that he could see the stars.

That night when he slept, he dreamed of dragons and burning castles, and at the very edge of his mind, a lady in emerald silk, pale face pulled into a mysterious smile.

Merlin spent a week in the druids camp, their magic and herbs slowly healing his torn back, and soon the pain had lessened enough for him to move freely and ride, if not with a little discomfort. However, the blissful calm of the druid camp only gave Merlin more time to think of home, and his heart ached for Glendale with each coming day. His mind was increasingly filled with thoughts of Gaius, of Gwen, of Edwin and Phillip, and he soon could think of nothing else but how they must be faring. Surely by now they thought him dead, and the idea sent shivers up his spine. He confided his musings with Doc, and the old man wrapped him in an embrace, helping the warlock ready himself for the long journey home.

When the time finally came for Merlin to leave, the birds were singing in the sunlit branches of the trees, and the warlock was given a steed the color of smoke—a steed laden with plenty of supplies for his long journey home. Doc, Aeneas, and Bofur waited next to the horse, tightening the buckles and checking for the billionth time that the young man would have everything he needed to get home safely. They even supplied him with a beautiful sword, hand crafted by the druids, its blade etched with runes written in the old tongue. They told him it had been made in the days before the Purge, forged in dragon's breath. In the druid's tongue, it was named Excalibur.

"My people will travel with you as far as the main road, but from there we cannot go further. Our people are viewed with suspicion in all the kingdoms, so you will be safer without us," the druid leader had informed him, giving him a quick blessing before Merlin was to set off.

Finally, after what Merlin thought were far too many unnecessary preparations, it was time to say goodbye.

"Take care of yourself, boy. Avoid trouble as best you can," Bofur said, squeezing the warlock with his great arms, but despite the fact that his back burned from the pressure, Merlin returned it with an equal amount of strength.

Next, Doc gave him a small bunch of herbs wrapped in white cloth. "These will help with the pain. Be light handed with them though; you don't know how much you'll need in the days to come."

"Thank you, Doc."

"No, thank you, Merlin. I'd be dead if it weren't for you, and nothing I could possibly do can repay that debt."

"You've already paid it in double, my friend." The warlock pulled the old man into a hug, surprised to find his eyes glazing over.

Aeneas was last, and he stood at the edge, running his hands through his long dark hair. "I'm going to miss you, laddie. I'll be staying with the druids. If ever you need me, you'll find me with them."

"Of course."

The two looked at each other awkwardly, and as Merlin leaned in to embrace him, Aeneas brushed him away. "I'm certain we'll meet again, Merlin, so there is no need to say goodbye."

They clasped forearms and Merlin smiled, mounted his horse, giving his friends a final farewell before leaving them behind- three druids leading him through the woods and towards home.

The group traveled for four days and four nights, and on the morning of the fifth day, the druids bade him farewell, pointing him the direction home. He thanked them and was soon on his way, the pain in his back forgotten as the prospect of sleeping in a warm bed urged him on. As the miles vanished, the towns grew into cities and the number of people rose. While Merlin wore a high-necked shirt baggy enough to disguise his heavily bandaged torso and gloves to protect his blistered hands, the fading bruises on his face stood out on his pale skin. More than once he was given a curious stare, but he wasn't stopped.

It was three days until Merlin saw Castle Leodogrance on the horizon, and despite the fact that he was near people, the warlock laughed aloud—ignorant of the fact that those walking nearby thought him mad. But the musings of farmers didn't quell Merlin's excitement, and he pushed his horse forward towards home.

Nodding to the guards posted at the gate, Merlin rode through the familiar doors of the capitol of Glendale. He passed familiar buildings and streets, even recognizing a person or two. He ran into no one, though, when he entered the stable and secured his horse to a stall, brushing it down and giving it a bright red apple as a thank you. Butterflies buzzed in his stomach as he climbed the worn staircase to the physician's quarters, and he stopped for a moment before opening the familiar old wooden door.

Upon entering, Merlin was greeted with a familiar sight. Gaius stood brewing a potion, back hunched over one of the many counters, and the warlock allowed himself a moment to watch his guardian before he interrupted the man's work.

"Need help with that?"

Gaius looked up in surprise, his wrinkled face widening in astonishment at the sight of the warlock.

"Merlin!"

"How are you doing, Gaius?"

"All the better on seeing you!" The old man walked quickly over to the young man, embracing him tightly, and Merlin ignored the pain, allowing the physician's familiar arms to welcome him home. Gaius looked up at him in shock, hands brushing over Merlin's bruised face. "What happened to you? You've been gone for over a month."

_Wow, I must have been in The Mine longer than I had previously thought_. "Let's just say I took a detour."

"Sit, sit." Gaius pulled him over to the dining table, running over to a pot on the fire. "I was just making supper. Would you like some?"

"Of course, thank you, Gaius."

His guardian turned back to look at him, searching the warlock's face with his piercing gaze. "You are most welcome, my boy." Gaius filled two bowls with some broth and trotted over to where Merlin sat, sliding into the chair opposite him. "You must tell me everything."

The sun had long since set when Merlin began the end of his tale, and the two bowls of soup sat cold and untouched before them. Just as the warlock began to tell the story of the escape from The Mine, the physician's door burst open.

"Gaius! I heard a rumor that Merlin was—" Gwenivere froze at the sight of her friend seated at the other side of the room. His face split into a wide smile.

"Hello, Gwen."

Merlin had just enough time to get up when Gwen rushed into his arms, her hands holding him close. Burying his face in her warm neck, he allowed her scent to overwhelm him-the scent of flowers and vanilla that he had so missed. She pulled away, looking at him for a moment before doing the unexpected thing—Gwen kissed him. Mind you, only for a second, but it was just long enough for him to feel the impossible softness of her lips. The pair looked at the each other in surprise, and blushes spread on the both of them.

"Sorry…I just…I thought…I mean we thought you were..umm…dead."

"It's alright," Merlin replied, still in shock. Gwen recovered quicker and pulled him closer. "Come on, you must tell me everything. Why were you gone for so long—"

"Princess, while I understand your curiosity, Merlin's had a long day of traveling and should get to bed—he has quite a bit of explaining to do tomorrow."

Merlin gave them both a sheepish smile. "Of course."

Gwen returned it and hugged him again, squeezing him tightly, whispering in his ear. "I've missed you, magical farmboy."

"And I you, Princess."

She let him go reluctantly, turning to walk out the door with a quick goodnight and a final glance. Merlin stood starstruck in the center of the room, having forgotten how to form coherent words.

"Merlin."

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Close your mouth, you don't want anything flying in."

"Okay."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Go to bed."

Merlin nodded and turned to walk the stairs up to his room, pausing at Gaius's voice.

"And Merlin?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"It's good to have you back."

* * *

The soft rays of sunlight woke Merlin the following morning. He turned in bed, enjoying the smell of the blankets. They smelled of herbs and home. He stretched, yawning widely and running his hand through his midnight black hair. Pain greeted him, as it did every morning, and he reached over to his bedside and drank some of the tonic Gaius had prepared him yesterday using the herbs Doc had given him. He slowly made his way out of bed, changing into a red tunic and brown trousers, wrapping a blue scarf round his neck to hide his bruises before walking downstairs.

"Good morning."

Gaius turned from where he was making breakfast, giving the warlock a warm smile. "Good morning to you, too. You're up early, I'd suspected that you'd sleep more."

"Sleeping hasn't been my _forte_ as of late."

"Why?"

"It's nothing." Merlin made his way to the dining table and began feasting on some fresh blueberries that sat there. Gaius followed him with two sandwiches, and the two settled to eat. However, the physician's mind was still on Merlin's lack of sleep.

"You have bags under your eyes," he remarked, looking at his ward's tired face with concern.

"Don't worry yourself—"

"I've been worrying about you since the moment you left that door. Gwen wasn't overreacting last night when she said we'd thought you dead. We never suspected you'd run into trouble on the way there."

"I'm sorry," Merlin replied softly. "I never meant for you to fear for me."

"We're your friends, Merlin, it comes in the job description. Now why can't you sleep?"

"Nightmares."

"Nightmares? Just that?"

"Yes…but no." Merlin ran his hand through his hair again, Gaius smiling to himself as the boy tustled up his hair further. "I don't think they are normal nightmares. See, I keep having the same dreams. I mean, they aren't the same dreams, but they're all similar. I keep seeing burning castles, and dragons, and scarlet cloaks, and a girl…a girl with black hair and green eyes." Merlin sighed. "This girl, I've never met her, I've never seen her before. But whenever she appears in my dreams, I keep getting these feelings that I don't understand."

"Like what?"

"Sadness, anger, disappointment, betrayal…love."

"Does this girl have a name?"

"No." Merlin sighed in frustration. "I see her, but I can't really describe her face. What does it mean, Gaius?"

"You are a powerful sorcerer Merlin. It shouldn't be surprising that you see visions like this. These might as well be dreams of the future."

Merlin was quiet for a moment before shaking his head in denial. "No, no. That's not right, that isn't the future, because if that's the future—then let's just say it sucks."

"There is no right or wrong here, only what is and what isn't."

"Yes, and that is not the future."

Gaius shook his head at the warlock fondly. "You should probably go see your professors. They'll be eager to hear about your adventures."

"More like eager to know why I got my ass kicked on my first trip."

Laughing, the old physician got up and helped the warlock to his feet. "Off you go. You're already a month and a half late for class."

His ward sighed again before opening the door, only to find Gwen about to do the same thing. The Princess hugged him quickly, and Merlin laughed. "Should I expect such affection every day?"

"Only for today because it's your first back. I figured we might go to class together? Knowing your memory, I'm guessing you've already forgotten the way to the library."

Even if that had been the case, Merlin was more than grateful for Gwen's companionship as he made his way down the endless corridors. When at last they reached their destination, the Princess bade him luck and went to sit with her tutors, leaving Merlin to climb up the familiar iron staircase to his training room alone.

He found his professors talking amongst themselves when he knocked the door before entering. When they looked up and saw him, their faces split into wide smiles—well, Phillip and Edwin's did. Surevres just scowled.

"Merlin!" Edwin rushed over and embraced him before pulling back, hand on the warlock's shoulder. "What happened to you? We thought we'd lost you."

"Yes, Edwin was out of his mind, he wanted to send search parties after you," Phillip said fondly.

"I ran into some trouble on the way there, but it's all behind me now."

"Did you meet with the dragon?"

"Yes—but not the way I planned."

Edwin arched an eyebrow before conjuring some chairs. "Start from the beginning."

* * *

"And so after I spoke to the dragon, I guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember I was lying down in a druid's tent in their camp. There I met a druid who helped clarify things, and after a week of mending I was on my way back here." Merlin finished, searching his professors for their reactions to his tale. Except for murmers of shock when he spoke of The Mine, they had sat poker-faced through the whole tale, and by now Merlin was on edge—wondering what they must think of him.

"That's quite a story…" Surevres said. "But is any of it true?"

"Sorry?"

"Well, forgive me if I find it hard to believe that there are bounty hunters who happen across sorcerers, capture them, and then use them to mine jewels for a dragon."

"What do you want me to tell you?" Merlin replied, dumbfounded. "And if that isn't the truth, then what do you think I was doing this whole time?"

"Perhaps you ran across some sorcerer whose been teaching you…your power feels rather amplified now that you've returned."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Then prove it!" Sureveres snapped.

"This is ridiculous," Edwin said. "Merlin, you don't have to—"

"No," the warlock replied, eyes still on the dark-haired professor. "If he wants proof, then, he can have it." Merlin pulled off his shirt, and the professors' eyes widened at the bandages—the warlock had left out the whipping part because he didn't think it important to worry them over it. But at Sureveres's ill-placed accusations, he was prepared to show them what he had really been through. He began to unwrap the bandages, and when they lay on the floor, the inner most blood stained, Merlin turned around and let them see the wounds.

There were unanimous gasps from behind him, and the warlock couldn't help but feel satisfied at Sureveres's wide-eyed stare.

"Is that proof enough?" he asked quietly.

"Yes…Yes of course," the professor answered.

Merlin quickly wrapped himself up again, tying the bandage tightly before shrugging his shirt back on.

"Now what other part of the story do you want me to prove?"

"Merlin, we didn't mean that—"

"Really? Because I'm sorry if I think it should be you doing the explaining. I've been away, trapped in a hellish mine, watching people being beaten to death, and all the while that I've been gone, you've been doubting my loyalty?"

"Merlin—"

"No, just listen for once in your lives," he snapped. "You've known all along, haven't you? You've known all along what my fate was, who I was, and why I'm like this. And instead of explaining it from the moment I walked into this bloody room, you waited a year and then sent me to go have a dragon tell me that I'm either going to destroy or save the kingdoms?"

"We didn't want you to feel pressure—"

"Well that didn't work, did it? You lied to me, all this time," he said, trying to disguise the hurt in his voice as anger. "All those times I asked you why I was like this, why I was born as a freak, a monster, you've told me you didn't know. And so here I am, three years before making this huge decision, and you still can't trust me?"

"It's not that we don't trust you—"

"THEN WHAT IS IT?!" The warlock shouted, getting up. "You sit there, questioning the truth in my story, and you know what? I know why. It's because you've been so careful in trying to ensure that when I make that decision, that it's because you molded me in such a way so that I can make the decision you want. You're afraid that I'll go bad," he added laughing bitterly. "You're afraid of me. If you feared me so much, then why didn't you kill me on that very first day? Why didn't you save yourself the trouble?"

"…Because we wanted to give you a chance. Because we didn't want to judge you over something, because you're not—" Edwin spoke.

"- My destiny? I'm not my destiny? Really? Because where I'm standing, it looks like that's all I am. Just some kid with this destiny to either go good or bad, and despite the fact when the moon eclipses, it'll be ME making the choice. Everyone knows about it except me."

"Merlin—"

"No, just don't, Edwin. I'm sick and tired of all these lies—"

Surevres interrupted him harshly. "Well, boy, I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings, but we did what we did to protect you, so that you could live happily ever after for as long as you could. But being the spoiled brat that you are, you clearly cannot thank us for our consideration, so if you're so angry, you can just run along and go write about how you've been mistreated in your little diary—"

"And you. What's your problem with me anyways?" Merlin interrupted Surevres. "Ever since I got here, you've given me nothing but crap. But you know what? I think now I finally know why. I'll bet that the day I arrived, you warned them about me. I'll bet you were demanding they kill me. Because you can't trust me. You'd think that after a year of seeing me almost every day that you'd know better than to think I'd turn my back on everything you've done for me for some well placed offer by some shady sorcerer I met on the road. That's not who I am. That's not who you taught me to be. All along you've been preaching how I have to use my power for good, but from the beginning, you knew there was a chance that I'd turn dark."

"You can't blame him, Merlin, " Phillip said quietly. "Few who wield the power you were born with aren't tempted by the blacker aspects of the Old Religion."

"And that's why you kept me hidden in the castle all this time. It's because you were afraid I'd run into a situation where my loyalties were tested, but you're in luck, because they haven't been. Despite the fact that you lied to me and don't trust me, my loyalty lies with you. But from now on, I don't need you as my teachers, because when my destiny comes knocking, it's going be me making the decision and not you. I don't need you breathing down my neck to ensure I choose what you want. Now, I've been traveling all week and I'm tired, so I'm going to ask to be excused." Merlin gave them a quick nod of the head before walking out, still fuming.

Behind him, Edwin and Phillip turned on Sureveres. "You really did it this time, didn't you?" Edwin snapped.

"I asked what we were all thinking, and what we all were saying when he was late. It's the reason we didn't let him go on any trips before this, you cannot blame me for posing the question—"

"-And in turn question his loyalty? The last thing Merlin needs now is to think that the odds are against his favor. We should be supporting him in his decision, not calling to attention the fact that he may be destined to destroy the kingdoms."

"Edwin is right, Sureveres. God knows the boy has been through an ordeal, and we can't go questioning his integrity the day he gets back. His trust in us is fundamental if we are to use him for the good of the kingdoms, and after this, I'm afraid he'll never trust us again."

"What does it matter?" the dark-haired sorcerer replied bitterly. "Whether he trusts us or not is not of consequence. In the end we need him to do what we want him to do; he has little choice in the matter. You know that, both of you. You play the card that you care about him, that he means something to you, but in the end, when it comes to it, you'll need him to serve you in whatever way—if he likes it or not."

"Surevres—"

"No. I don't trust him, I don't like him, but I do respect him enough not to pretend that he has any choice in this. Now if you want to continue sugar-coating the matter, feel free to do so, but count me out." With that, the sorcerer left, black cloak trailing behind him.

"Now what?" Phillip turned to Edwin, face grim.

"What we always do, wait and hope for the best. We can go to him tomorrow, but let him cool down today."

"Which one? Merlin or Surevres?"

"Both, I'm afraid, both."

* * *

"Can you believe it? After a year of working my ass off for them, they still don't trust me. They watch me like I'm going to start shooting fireballs from my eyes." Merlin fumed, pacing back and forth.

Gwen looked at him with large brown eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, you kind of might, Merlin. No one knows what the decision will be when the time comes, but until then, they have to guide you as best as they can. They are just acting in the interest of the kingdom."

"I get that." The warlock sighed, sitting down heavily across from her. "But what I don't understand is why they didn't tell me about this earlier. I had a right to know. The prophesy is about me after all."

"I don't pretend to know anything about this, but tell me, had they told you about this the very first day you arrived, would anything be different?"

"Yes…No….I don't know. I would have been—"

"-Better prepared? I doubt so. This past year you've been complaining about how hard they work you, and you didn't need the weight of an impending choice to weigh you down as you were training."

"But that weight is still there, it's always been there, even if I didn't know it was. I'm still going to have to make that choice, but now—"

"-You have only three years to prepare for it? I think that's enough. But you mustn't let that bother you. At least now you know that there is a purpose for your gifts, that's what you were searching for all along, wasn't it?"

"I guess so." He leaned back and Gwen smiled at him.

"Try not to dwell on it. You have three years. The date isn't moving, but even if they don't have faith in you, I do, and so do many others."

"I don't know what I would do without you."

"Probably shrivel up and die from the pressure. Now, what say you to a ride? Clear your mind."

He turned to her for a second, quiet, before letting a smile light his face. "Beat you to the stables."

"Doubtful."

The two laughed and raced towards the barn, where saddling their horses, they rode out of the city gates and into the wide open fields of Glendale—and Merlin forgot about the prophesy for the first time since he had arrived.

* * *

"The letter has arrived from Camelot, my lord."

"Tell me, has Uther agreed?"

"Yes, my Lord, he says his delegation should arrive in two weeks."

"Good, that should give us enough time to prepare and draft a peace plan. We've been at odds for too long."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Call in the court, everyone."

"Right away, my Lord."

"Thank you, Martin."

The King of Glendale watched his servant as he left the room, and sighed, putting his head in his hands. _This had better work or we'll be facing war._

* * *

Merlin and Gaius were one of the last to enter the room, and when the King was confident that everyone was present, he stood up and addressed the many persons in the room.

"You all know that we've been at odds with Camelot for many years. These past months, tensions have risen to new highs. Uther knows of my plans to return to the old ways, and being the man he is, the King of Camelot isn't all too pleased. In order to see eye to eye and keep from war, he and I have decided to come together to draft a treaty. I know not what he'll demand, nor what he wants, however, as a sign of good intent, I've invited him to stay here as we write up an agreement. He's responded and told me that his delegation will be arriving in two weeks time." Merlin stiffened, and Gaius looked at him quickly before turning his attention back to the King.

"Do not, however, take this as a sign of weakness. When he arrives here, we will hold feasts and dances like any welcoming host, but I need not remind you that this is Uther Pendragon we are dealing with. I'll need you all to be your sharpest, he mustn't take this as an advantage to use us. I cannot emphasize enough how much rests on this visit. If we are unsuccessful in writing a treaty, then war will surely break out—and we are not ready for that. Camelot's forces are powerful, and we still cannot match them with man power. Do I have your support in this matter?"

The members of the court nodded and as the King dismissed them. He called for the physician to stay behind, and Merlin shot him a look before following the others out. After the last noble had left the room, King Leodogrance nodded for the guards to leave and close the door behind them.

"My Lord?" Gaius asked questioningly.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't quite understand…"

"I'm inviting our sworn enemy to the castle, and expecting him to play by the rules."

"It's the only way to make peace, my lord."

"I know that, but that's why I needed to speak to you. Your boy, Merlin, how is he?"

"He arrived from a trip only a week ago," Gaius replied. "But what does Merlin have to do with this?"

"Everything. He's our only chance of bringing magic back. We lose him, and we have nothing. He is the key to limiting Uther's power, and Camelot knows it. You must promise me, Gaius, that you'll keep him safe."

"Of course, my lord."

"And Gaius?"

"Yes?"

"You know that should war break out, he is our greatest weapon."

"He's just a boy—"

"No. He's the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, the one thing that Uther fears more than everything. If anything, he is the reason Camelot hasn't declared war on us yet. Ensure that his loyalties are with us, and ensure that he's prepared to fight for Glendale."

"I hope it doesn't go so far."

"As do I, but we must be prepared for the worse."

"Is that all, my Lord?"

"Yes, Gaius, thank you."

Over at the other side of the castle, Gaius was receiving the same treatment from his young ward.

"Uther despises magic, He's going to kill me."

"Don't be a fool, Merlin. You have the protection of the King. To hurt you would be declaring war on Glendale."

"As if Uther really cares about war. He's made it quite clear that his mission in life is to destroy everything that has to do with the Old Religion, and I'm the biggest example in that category."

"That is true, but you had to know that you'd eventually have to face Camelot. Their hatred of magic is another reason for you to practice even more. You're our weapon against Uther, the one thing he fears. If you can show the people that magic can be used as a force for good, then the old ways may return, and magic can be accepted again. This will not only undermine Camelot's influence, but it'll put Uther's reign of terror at question."

"…Which is why he's going to kill me."

"Yes…wait, no! Uther is not going to like you, but inside these walls, you are safe. Under the protection of the King, Uther cannot touch you."

Merlin sighed softly. "Two weeks?"

"Two weeks."

And what a two weeks they were. The whole castle—no, the whole CITY—was in a mad flurry of action. Here and there were some servants sweeping the halls, there were grooms cleaning the stables, and in the court rooms the politicians practiced their poker faces.

Things were no different for Merlin. His tasks were not only time consuming, but tiring, so by the end of each long day, the warlock lay in bed, back sore and aching, ready for Camelot's delegation to finally arrive. But still his stomach housed butterflies, for with each coming day neared the arrival of a group who was sure to scorn and hate him for the way he was born. Attempting to stay positive, Merlin gushed with Gwen about the coming days, complained at all the right moments about how rude those from Camelot would surely be, and admired the many new gowns she was receiving—the Princess had to look perfect. Merlin didn't envy her, and jokingly made this clear to her, receiving a few of her signature glares.

But whether Merlin was ready or not for the Camelot delegation to arrive, it did, punctual, arriving when expected. And so two weeks from the day he received the news, the raven-haired warlock stood on the steps of the castle with the other members of the gifted court, Gaius by his side. It was past the afternoon, so the light was dimming in the sky. Shadows stretched down the courtyard, and a soft breeze rustled their clothes. When Camelot arrived, it was the display those from Glendale expected.

They came on the backs of well-groomed horses, their red capes sweeping behind them. Their banners waved in the breeze, the golden dragon embroidered proudly on the scarlet fabric. The knights wore chainmail and helmets that shined in the sun, and at their head rode none other than Uther Pendragon himself.

Rounder than expected, the King of Camelot had a bright red nose but severe expression, his graying hair the color of steel. At his side rode who must only be his son, Arthur Pendragon.

_The man destined to bring forth Albion with me_, thought the warlock meekly upon seeing the proud, golden-haired youth riding at his father's side. But Merlin's attention soon turned to the King's other side, where rode Uther Pendragon's ward. She was just as beautiful as rumors had conveyed: long black hair braided down her back, face as smooth and pale as porcelain, eyes the color of her emerald green gown, and lips the most sinful red. But she was another thing, a thing that meant a lot to the warlock who stood watching her from his position on the stairs to a castle.

She was the lady from his nightmares.

**YES I KNOW, FINALLY THE LEADING LADY SHOWS UP! But trust me, there was method to my madness-the whole Mine plot-line will be big later on in the story, hopefully the pieces fall together for you eventually. So no OCs for a long time, I don't think till the end of the story! Our leading quartet will be front and center, and there will be looooaaaadddssss more Mergana (that is why you're reading this after all). **

**Thank you to those of you who are reviewing, they keep me alive, and thank you very much to the people who are reading! I really am hoping you're enjoying it! If you have critics or praises, write in the pretty white box and press the magical blue button (you know you want to). **

**-ladywarlock**


	7. Every Story Needs a Beginning

**Hello lovelies! How are you all faring with the Merlin news (hugs) it'll be ok!**

**Here's the other chapter, been posting one every week as promised, so hopefully you remember the last chapter (though last Wednesday seems ages ago).**

**LOT'S OF CANON STUFF HERE! I hope you like and notice it, I...whatever, you'll be reading this in a couple seconds anyways :P**

_**Song: Hardest of Hearts by Florence+ the Machine (hardcore Mergana song my friends, it's brilliant)**_

**I hope you like it!**

While Merlin would have been happy to sit and watch the woman in his dreams all day, his attention was taken by the activity below. Uther Pendragon dismounted, and King Leodogrance walked towards him. The two shook hands.

"It's been too long," Uther told the copper-skinned King, and the other monarch dipped his head in agreement.

"Welcome to Glendale."

After a few softly spoken words that Merlin couldn't catch, the warlock watched as Arthur Pendragon dismounted and was introduced to Gwen. She looked beautiful, dressed in a stunning gown of lavender purple silk, hair braided in a hairdo that must have taken hours. Curtsying like a true lady, Merlin stifled a giggle as Arthur kissed her gloved hand—he could only imagine what Gwen would say to him when they were alone.

_She_was introduced next, the woman that had both graced and haunted his mind, and Merlin found himself captivated by how graceful she was, so fluid in her motions, a small smile that made you try to guess what she was thinking on her full lips. He, along with the other members of the court, moved to the side to allow the delegation into the citadel, and just as she passed him, the warlock felt himself inexplicably drawn to her. As if she felt the same, the ward caught his eye just as she walked by, and Merlin couldn't look away as he was captured by her beautiful jade eyes, lined by midnight black kohl. But the moment was over as soon as it started, and she entered the castle and was out of his sight.

The warlock shook his head and followed Gaius back to their chambers, still in a drunken stupor of shock and amazement—a stupor that his guardian noticed.

"What's wrong, Merlin? You look like you've seen a ghost," the physician asked after he closed the door.

"She's the girl—lady from my dreams."

"Who?"

"The Lady Morgana."

Gaius looked at him, eyes wide. "Impossible."

"I know, but it's her. The eyes, the lips, she's even wearing the same gown she wore in my nightmares."

"But how?"

"I don't know, Gaius. I just don't know. What do I do?"

"Nothing, you hear? Let things take their course, alright? You must promise me you won't get involved."

"Trust me, getting involved with the ward of a man who'd like to see my head on a platter—not on my list of priorities."

"Good. Now go wash up, we'll have to go to the feast in two hours, and the King wants everyone looking their best."

"Alright."

"Off you go."

Merlin jumped up to his room, closing the door behind him. He sat down slowly on the bed, burying his face in his hands, fingers on his temple, trying to remove the image of a certain green-clad lady with crimson lips from his mind.

* * *

Gaius called for him in an hour, and Merlin quickly washed his face and went down to meet him. The warlock was dressed in a red shirt—a little finer than his every day one, and baggy brown pants coupled with the only pair of boots he owned. Around his neck he wrapped a soft blue scarf Gwen had given him, but denied the cloak Gaius had suggested he wear. The two left the room, running into other members of the court as they made their way to the feast. Leading him to a seat at a table right of that of the royalty, Gaius sat down and watched the warlock do the same. Across from them would sit members of Camelot's court, next to them members of their own, and knights would be dispersed randomly with their ladies. At the high table were set six chairs, the Kings seated in the middle, their children in the two chairs at their right, and the Lady Morgana and Edwin at their left.

Merlin looked around in wonder, all the preparation they had done paid off. The hall was shining from marble floor to wooden ceiling, garlands and flowers decorating every open space. Already servants lined the sides, hands filled with jugs and plates of goodies to offer those seated. But Merlin didn't have long to admire the room for long, because next to him plopped Gwaine, and the chestnut-haired knight had a wide smile on his face.

"Oh no," Merlin moaned theatrically. "I have to live with Gwaine's incessant chatter for the rest of the evening?"

"I'm hurt, Merlin," the knight laughed. "At least we don't have to sit next to royalty. I'm betting that Gwen will try to run to us after five minutes."

"Three," the warlock amended with a smile. "Arthur will compliment her on how she looks…"

"…Then tell her what an honor it is to be here…"

"…Boast about his many talents as a warrior…"

"…Attempt to flirt with her and miserably fail…"

"…Then the two will sit in an awkward silence for the rest of the evening," Merlin said with a laugh, finishing them off.

"See? Now you can't think I'm that bad of a person to sit next to."

The warlock was quiet for a moment, contemplating, before he turned to Gwaine. "No, you're still pretty bad."

"I know."

The two laughed again and Gwaine began to ask him for the umpteenth time to tell him about his adventure to the dragon, and Merlin recounted it again, Gwaine interrupting every so often to curse or say what he would have done in his position. By now the hall was almost full, every seat taken, and the sounds of trumpets interrupted them and they looked up, rising to bow to the two kings who entered the room. Both wore their largest crowns, their finest robes. Behind them, Arthur escorted Gwenivere—the Prince in his scarlet cloak and chainmail, Gwen in a beautiful navy gown.

But even though Gwen was lovely, many eyes turned to the woman behind her.

"God have mercy," Gwaine muttered by his side.

The Lady Morgana wore a long crimson gown, simple, with only a sheer layer on top to give it design. However, the dress hugged her curves and glided on her as she walked. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, black strands perfectly framing her face, and the hairdo only allowed for more eyes on her bare shoulders. Skin the color of ivory. At the edge of her eye, the lady had put a small gemstone—a style that Gwen and Merlin had always agreed looked terrible-but on the Lady it looked sinful. With her blood-red lips, jade eyes, and pale skin, she didn't need a fancy dress to show off her beauty. She was stunning, and Merlin couldn't take his eyes off her.

But as soon as she took her seat, King Leodogrance called their attention, and all eyes turned reluctantly from the lovely visions seated at the high table to the King.

"For years we have been at odds, and there are enough wars in our past to prove it. But tonight, we welcome our honored guests from Camelot with open arms, because with them comes hope for a peace between our two nations which has been absent for far too long. In honor of their arrival, Glendale will be hosting three days of celebration. Tonight we are here for a feast, to greet and welcome each other like brethren, and to let the politicians have their small talk." A small titter of laughter rose from the audience and the King waited for it to die down before he continued. "But tomorrow, we give our warriors a chance to enjoy themselves. In the morning we will leave for a hunt, and afterwards our knights will be given the chance to test their skills against each other in a small tournament. On the final day, we will be hosting a masquerade ball, open to all." Talking filled the hall, and people turned to each other in excitement at the idea. "I will not keep you from the feast much longer, I'm sure our guests are hungry after many days of travel. Enjoy."

The hall was abuzz with talk as servants entered the room-carrying in their arms grand plates filled with the best food Glendale's many chefs had to offer. Gwaine poked him roughly in the arm, and Merlin turned to him in annoyance.

"Ouch, that hurt."

"Sorry, I forgot you were a twig. Care for some chicken?"

"Don't mind if I do." The warlock soon filled his plate and, with his friend, began to eat.

"So, will you be competing in the tournament tomorrow? You'd kill those ruby-wearing knights," Gwaine asked, mouth full of steak.

"No, the court decided it'd be best if we magic wielders didn't participate. That way we can stay on Uther's good side."

"That's a shame." The knight patted Merlin on the shoulder—the warlock nearly fell out of his chair. "I always look forward to watching you compete."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking I'll stay under the radar while they're here."

"Will you at least come to the hunt?"

"You know I don't like hunting, Gwaine."

"But why not?"

"Well, what kind of a sport is it when one side has hounds, horses, and spears and the other nothing?"

"My kind of sport." The two laughed, and Merlin turned to the high table, instinctively looking for Gwen. As though she felt the same, the Princess met his gaze and mouthed, "help me." Merlin laughed and looked at her companion. The "once and future king" was looking sullenly at his plate, looking up every so often as though he was about to say something, but then stopping and remaining silent.

_What an idiot. What the hell was destiny thinking, trying to hook me up with that guy?_

Merlin looked down the table. Both Kings were in a heated discussion, and the Lady Morgana was listening intently to something Edwin was saying. The warlock smiled. Edwin was always good at putting people at ease, and Merlin could tell that the Lady Morgana was enjoying her time by the small smile on her face. Reluctantly, the young man turned his attention from her back to Gwaine, and the two spoke uninterrupted the rest of the evening, Merlin not looking back at the high table again.

When they were finally dismissed, Merlin excused himself from Gaius's company and made his way to a balcony on the eastern wing. Making sure no one was watching, he eased himself over the railing and dropped down on the terrace below. There he pulled off his scarf and lay on the edge, looking out at the city. After about half an hour, Gwen opened the door and sat next to him, wrapped up tightly in her night gown.

"So, how was it?" she asked.

"I think everyone but you and Arthur had fun." The warlock smiled at her. "What did he do to get so badly on your nerves?"

"I don't know. He's just Arthur. He's arrogant, annoying, self-conceited—"

"-You can already name so many attributes about the man. Wow, Gwen, I'm impressed. You barely spoke two words with him to know so much."

The Princess rolled her eyes. "He's just so proper, it's like spending the evening talking to Martin."

"Perhaps he's just trying to make a good impression?"

"Yeah. I don't know, he's one of those rough, tough, save the world kind of guys. I prefer much more ordinary men like you." Merlin raised his eyebrow. "No, I don't mean you, but I mean, I like ordinary men LIKE you…"

"Oh, trust me, I'm not ordinary."

"Really? Because you really don't look like one of those guys..."

Merlin looked around before leaning in closer to her. "I'm in disguise."

The Princess laughed. "You're strange—but a good kind of strange."

"What's gotten into you, Gwen? You seem a bit flustered," The warlock cocked his head inquisitively, studying her face with those piercing blue eyes. She blushed in response, and Merlin's eyes widened. "No…Could you…I can't believe it…"

"What?!" She said in surprise.

"You like him!" Merlin accused.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do _not_."

"Do too."

"Oh, stop it, Merlin, you're acting like a five year old. Whatever gave you the idea that I might like that…that…prat?!"

"Hey, that's my word!"

"Merlin!"

"Well, you don't like him, and everyone knows opposites attract. Ever since you've met him you've been acting all shy and flustered, not at all like the Gwen I know, and you blush when I ask you about it! When should I be expecting wedding invitations?"

"Merlin!"

"What, Princess Pendragon?"

"Get out."

The warlock smiled at her cheekily, and dodged when she tried to hit him. Inclining his head towards her, he kissed her forehead.

"Good night, lovebird."

"I don't like him-"

But before she could finish, he was gone, pulling himself off the balcony and out of sight. Left alone, the Princess smiled, rolling her eyes. There was once a time she had a crush on Merlin, and she still kind of did. What girl couldn't fall for that smile? However, when he was gone on his trip, and she left alone, Gwen realized she loved him far too much to think about him in that way. She realized that, though one chooses who to love, one cannot help who they're friends with, and, we choose who we love, but we can't help who we're friends with, and Merlin was the greatest friend she had, and would ever have. Happy with her private revelation, she walked inside, shutting the doors tightly behind her, collapsed in bed, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Merlin spent the next morning practicing spells, waiting for the tournament to begin mid afternoon. Gwaine had bullied him into coming to watch. He was practicing a shield spell when Gaius called to him down below.

"I'm leaving for a second. Watch the King's tonics for me while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to give this sleeping draft to the Lady Morgana. The poor thing has been known to have nightmares."

"Is it the same one I take?"

"Yes…"

The warlock got to his feet, walking down the stairs and towards the old physician. "Then let me take it to her. I can tell her the side effects and yada yada."

"Are you sure you want to speak with her?"

"Chances are she won't even be there, and I'll just give it to her maid. But if she is…I don't know, meeting her might get her out of my head."

Gaius looked at him for a moment before handing him a small vial. "Alright."

"Oh, and Gaius? I won't be back till evening—Gwaine has asked that I watch the tournament."

"No competing."

"I know. See you."

Walking out the door, Merlin quickly made his way to the guest chambers. When he reached the Lady's rooms, he found the door open. He knocked softly before walking in, running into her the moment he entered.

Her back was turned, and she was talking to someone, presumably her maid. She walked behind her screen and began to undress—Merlin too shocked to say anything.

"Sefa, will you hand me that dress?"

The warlock coughed, coming back to his senses and realizing that the beautiful girl thought that he was her maid. "I'm sorry, my lady, I don't know where your maid is. I was sent here by the court physician."

"Oh, how embarrassing, I'm so sorry. Do you mind handing me the dress on the table? I'll be with you in a moment."

Merlin picked up the dress, made of navy blue silk, and turned away as he handed it to her over the screen. He could hear her pulling on the garment, and blushed even though he couldn't see her.

"I'm sorry, do you mind doing the back of the dress for me?" she asked suddenly.

"O-of course, my lady," Merlin blustered.

He walked hesitantly towards the screen, and saw her standing there, back to him. Her dress was open, and beneath it the sheer white of her shift—so sheer that he could see the outline of her spine. A shudder ran through him and he began to tie the laces on the back of the gown. Reaching the middle, he pulled on one and she winced.

"Sorry, sorry. Rough hands."

"It's alright. Thank you."

Merlin finished and she turned to him, and he was dumbstruck by her beauty. Her hair lay in waves down her shoulders, and she wore little makeup, somehow that making her even more appealing. But it was not only her beauty that drew him towards her; something inside of him stirred in her presence, and he felt his magic rise to the surface. It took what little of his concentration that she hadn't already captivated to keep it at bay.

"Umm…ehm…well, Gaius—our court physician-told me to give you this umm…for your nightmares." Merlin handed her the bottle, red creeping up his neck.

But she didn't comment on his awkwardness, only smiled. "Thank you."

"Oh, and my lady?"

"Yes?"

"You should take a spoonful of the tonic every night before you go to bed, no sooner, because it makes you drowsy. And in the morning when you wake up, you may feel a bit dizzy—it's pretty strong."

She cocked her head at him, studying him with her beautiful eyes. "You know a lot about this potion."

"I should, I take it."

"Really?" The Lady's eyes widened before looking around, taking a step closer to him. "And does it work…do your nightmares go away?"

"No. But it dulls them and makes them less real," the warlock replied softly. Nodding her head, Morgana pulled a hair behind her ear.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure, my lady. If the tonic doesn't work, just come to the physician's quarters and we can see if something else can help." He turned, almost walking out the door before he heard her speak again.

"I didn't catch your name."

"Merlin, my lady."

"Thank you, Merlin."

He nodded and smiled at her, walking out quietly, ignorant of that fact that she watched the door long after his departure. When he turned the corner and was out of sight, he leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to cool down, aware of how hot he felt.

Back in the room, Morgana sat down on the bed, looking at the tonic in her hands.

"My lady, you're dressed," Sefa commented as the maid walked through the door, fresh sheets in her arms.

"Yes."

"What's that in your hands?"

"A tonic sent by the court physician. You wouldn't happen to know anyone by the name of Merlin, would you?"

"Not that I remember, my lady. Why?"

"Because I just met him, and I can't shake the feeling that I've met him somewhere before."

"Where, my lady? He's from Glendale."

"I don't know. I just know that I've seen him somewhere before, that I've met him. Seeing his face…it's like seeing a long forgotten dream. Like a memory from a past life."

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, my lady. Do you wish me to do your hair so you can go see the tournament?"

"You go, Sefa. I'm tired and would prefer to sit here."

"Of course, my lady, get some rest." The maid curtsied and walked out of the room, leaving Morgana alone with her thoughts.

Merlin, meanwhile, made his way down to the tournament field, his mind still on the Lady. The knights were preparing themselves when he reached the field, taking a seat in the stands. He smiled at Gwaine when he saw him and then settled down, the sound of steel breaking on steel clearing his thoughts. However, the outcome was not the one he had desired because it was Prince Arthur who won the title. He beat Gwaine in the semi finals, and went on to fight and defeat Percival in the finale. The audience cheered, and Merlin made his way out of the stands before everyone left, walking towards the training fields where he knew he could find Gwaine. He wanted to both mock and comfort him for his loss.

But before he could see his friend, he ran into a group of Camelot's knights—at their head Prince Arthur, using a servant for target practice. The poor boy was holding up a wooden shield, and was moving back and forth, the Prince throwing well-aimed daggers towards the target.

"Well, run!" Merlin overheard Arthur say. "We want a moving target."

The Prince then threw a knife so hard that the servant fell to his knees, the shield rolling away and towards the warlock. Before the poor boy could pick it up, Merlin put his boot on its worn surface, looking up at the Prince.

"I think you've had your fun, my friend."

Arthur's eyebrows rose incredulously. "Excuse me? Do I know you? Because you just called me friend." He walked menacingly towards the smaller man, but Merlin stood his ground.

"I'm sorry, that was my mistake. I could never have a friend who could be such an ass."

The onlookers laughed, and the Prince did too, however his was one of shock. "And who are you?"

"Merlin."

"Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?"

"No."

"Would you like me to teach you how?"

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know what I could do to you."

"I could rip you apart with one blow."

"I could do so in even less," Merlin replied, receiving a short bark of laughter from the Prince.

"You do know I've been trained to kill since birth," Arthur said jauntily, pulling a sword from the ground and swinging it in his hand.

"Wow. And how long have you been training to be a prat?"

"You can't address me like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat…" Merlin bowed mockingly,"… my lord?"

Arthur Pendragon laughed, but then swung the sword at the thin black-haired man. Merlin avoided it, side stepping easily.

"Pick up a sword," Arthur growled, all frivolity gone.

"If you say so," Merlin's eyes glowed gold and suddenly a sword was pulled from the sheathe of one of the on looking knights—a crowd had gathered by now. The warlock tested it, running it's blade down Arthur's, the Prince too shocked to parry. Merlin smiled and widened his eyes, the sword pulling itself back to face the Prince, the sorcerer's hands still limp at his sides.

Arthur looked at him, studying the young man for a second before lunging. Merlin easily parried, his eyes burning a permanent gold as he dueled the Prince. The Pendragon spun around and swung his sword, Merlin's quick reflexes the only thing that kept his ear from being chopped off. But ducking to the side made the warlock lose his footing, and he rolled quickly to the side to avoid the Prince's stabbing blade. Merlin jumped up and held up his hand, the blade sent flying, and Arthur only barely blocked it. The sword flew back to Merlin's hands and the two circled each other calmly, Arthur's face one of rage and confusion, Merlin's of intense concentration. It was the warlock that made the next move -another sword flew to his other hand, then he let them go and watched them float in the air for a moment before sending them towards the Prince. Ducking low, Arthur fought the invisible opponents, but he tripped over a rock as he backed up. Merlin walked forwards, the twin swords floating right above the Prince of Camelot.

Taking a look at the fallen man, Merlin called his swords back to his hands, giving Arthur the chance to get to his feet. The onlookers cheered, but the two barely noticed. Arthur looked at the warlock for a second, attempting to find a chink in the man's magical armor. He faked left, and Merlin's swords moved to parry, only to leave the warlock's right side undefended. Arthur's sword cut him, and the warlock reacted instinctively—his pain sending the Prince flying back several feet to crash on the grass. Arthur gasped for air, seeing stars, and Merlin walked over to him, pointing the tip of his sword at the Prince's throat, a hand clutching the bleeding wound on his side.

"We're not in Camelot, and here in Glendale, we don't support the bullying of servants. You'd do well to remember that—my lord," He then buried the swords in the ground, offering his hand to the fallen Prince. But Arthur didn't take it, instead getting up on his own and glaring at the warlock before picking up his own blade and walking away. Merlin only shrugged, returning the other sword to its proper owner and turning away, aware of the wide eyed stares he was leaving behind.

Suddenly, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Gwaine walking beside him, a large smile on the knight's face.

"That was bloody brilliant. Pure genius. Utter magnificence."

"Ooo, big words there, Gwaine."

Ignoring him, the knight continued. "You just showed up, and humiliated, Arthur Pendragon. We should go to the tavern and celebrate."

"I didn't want to, but he was being a bully. Gaius is going to kill me," the warlock moaned. "So much for lying low."

"He deserved it!"

"Yes, he's a prat."

"Then you have nothing to be worried about."

"Yeah, except for the fact that I just made an enemy of the Prince of Camelot."

"Well, he wanted you dead even before this happened, so it's not like you made things any worse."

"Such words of comfort, Gwaine, I feel a lot better now."

"Always here for you, mate."

**YAY! Finally got Gwaine established in the story-he's my favorite knight and I adore his friendship with Merlin. **

**Please, please, please tell me if I wrote the characters correctly- Morgana, Arthur, and Gwaine. I want this to be believable, which is why I did add Canon moments. A little bit of Mergana this chapter, the two finally are introduced. The amount of text the couple will have grows with every chapter, so I hope you are looking forward to that. **

**As for Merlin being cancelled...well, I'm not going to lie and say I'm not heartbroken. I swear, for the last couple days I've been a sorry wreck-tearing up at everything and downright sobbing while scrolling down my dash on tumblr. Because it's been a rough week, I'm thinking of posting another chapter this weekend (it's one of my favorites because it's a masquerade and it gave me a chance to mess around with some imagery). Ultimately, it's up to you.**

**Do you want another chapter this weekend, or would that be too much of the story over the span of a couple days? I could always just post it next Wednesday like normal ( and if there is any confusion I would post a chapter, say, on Friday, and then another on Wednesday). **

**WHAT SAY YOU!?**

**Oh, and thanks for all the reviews and the follows! GAHHH this last chapter got the most reviews and I'm hoping that continues? It's really lovely to hear from you, even if you're only writing one word!**

**SO YES! TELL IF YOU WANT ANOTHER CHAPTER OR A SHOULDER TO CRY ON AND I WILL REPLY TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY!**

**-ladywarlock**


	8. Masquerade

**Hello, my beautiful readers. I apologize for the tardiness of the chapter-I know, I promised to publish it last weekend. It's just I figured I should write and send chapter 16 to my beta before I did, just so I don't catch up to myself. But it was difficult to write, gahhh, writer's block. A lot happens and I was perhaps a bit overambitious in what I could accomplish in such a short period of time ( I hope you guys are still with me come chapter 16). So the chapter was long, the writing wasn't good, and Merlyn had a lot to fix. Yeah... that is why this chapter is late, and I sincerely apologize. **

**_This song fits the occasion entirely: Masquerade: Phantom of the Opera_**

**I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. More notes below when you're finished (as well as reviews I couldn't reply too).**

"How could you be so stupid?"

"He had to be taught a lesson."

"Your magic is to be used for good, not for silly fights with royal guests."

"Why should I have to hide who I am just because they're here? Magic is a part of me that isn't going away, so Uther and his bloody son should get used to it if they want Glendale as an ally—OUCH," The warlock flinched as Gaius cleaned his wound.

"This treaty isn't all about you, Merlin—"

"-And I'm not the only sorcerer. I used my magic to defend someone else, it doesn't matter against whom. I shouldn't have to explain my use of magic; I've never had to before."

"That's true, but there's a lot at stake here," Gaius snapped.

"You don't think I know that? But if I don't have the strength to stand up to an arrogant bully than my abilities were given to the wrong person."

The old physician sighed, rubbing a salve on the deep cut in the warlock's side. "I just need you to be careful."

"I will be. I promise," Merlin said with a comforting smile, but flinching when Gaius pressed on the wound.

"Idiot," the old man breathed.

* * *

"_So this is what it's come to. Remember when we fought together? Why is it that now we fight on opposite sides? Tell me, what went wrong?"_

"_You chose him, over me. You chose them, over us. You chose to leave me in the dark, to betray your kind."_

"_No, it was you who betrayed us. Magic is supposed to be used for good that is its true purpose, not for glory."_

"_Yes. Right from the mouths of old professors. Don't you understand? No matter how much you protect them, no matter how much you serve them, they will never truly trust you. You are__ the __thing that they cannot understand, and that shouldn't be something to be ashamed of."_

"_Don't—"_

"_You've pretended for so long that you've forgotten who you are. You may be willing to spend your days as a servant, to serve them and answer to their every command, to pretend that you are less than them, but that is not something I will do. I will not apologize for who I am. It's time those with magic fought back, it's time for a blow to be dealt for the likes of you and me, and if you are too weak to do it yourself, then it falls to me."_

"_Then I am sorry to say that we will fight on opposite sides tonight, and for the battles to come until you give up this madness."_

"_How will you fight against me? You have no magic, you have nothing."_

"_That's wrong."_

"_Then pray tell me what you have?"_

"_Your heart."_

Merlin shot up awake, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He looked around him-everything of his had fallen to the floor. Drawers empty, bookshelves toppled, the bedside table overturned. The warlock made his way weakly to a mirror, and saw in horror that his eyes were burning gold.

"No, no, no," he murmured, collapsing to the floor. Remembering Edwin's words, he put his head between his knees, focusing on his breathing.

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

Slowly he got a handle on the magic, and its departure left a hole in his chest. His white shirt was soaked through with sweat, and the cut on his side had bled through the bandages and was seeping through the fabric, leaving a growing scarlet stain. Merlin leaned against the side of his bed, closing his eyes. His back was killing him, and he was sure the wounds there were bleeding too. He made his way to the table at his bedside on wobbly feet, taking a gulp of the tonic, and waited for it to ease his pain.

Going back to sleep wasn't an option, and despite the fact that he was still exhausted, he removed his night shirt and pulled on a red tunic over his sleeping trousers. Tugging on his boots, the warlock opened the door quietly and softly padded his way to the door. He turned to look at his guardian and mumbled a spell to right the old man's blankets. Smiling, he made his way out the door, closing it slowly, and stepped out into the castle. After walking about in the darkness, he made his way to the roof.

Gwen has shown him the way on the third day of his arrival, and from that moment it had become their place. He climbed the wooden step ladder leading to the trap door in the ceiling, opening it and pulling himself into the brisk night air. It was a beautiful evening, and the breeze cooled the warlock's feverish skin. Despite the fact that he was always there, the sight never ceased to take his breath away. Glendale was a thousand twinkling lights, a thousand fires that burned before turning to smoke at the sun's first rays.

When finally the sun rose from behind the mountains, the warlock returned to his room and spent the rest of the morning cleaning, and his room was pristine by the moment Gaius came to wake him. Work that day was canceled in order to let people prepare for the masquerade—it was to be held at sunset, and that gave Gaius ample time to take the young man to a fitter. The day went by faster than he could have imagined, and an hour before they were meant to go down to the ball, Merlin found himself seated on one of the many wooden benches in the physician's chambers. Gaius was un-wrapping his wounds to see how they were. The old man grunted at the sight of Merlin's back, and the warlock winced.

"How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. They are healing, and new skin has grown. However I fear that they'll scar and I can do nothing except heal them. They won't remain this red forever, though, but I'll start putting on this salve to help them pale."

"Thank you, Gaius."

"There's no need to thank me, boy. I'm just grateful you still have that head on your shoulders—a mystery though it is."

Merlin laughed meekly and was quiet while Gaius gently covered his back with a cool cream. When the physician rose to his feet, walking away, Merlin looked at him questioningly. "Don't you need to bandage them…?"

"No, the cream will keep them covered and protected, so you'll only need a bandage for that cut on your side."

"Yes!" The warlock shrugged on his shirt, enjoying the lack of bandages for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Now go get dressed. As members of the court, we are expected to be early."

Merlin nodded and made his way quickly to his room. He had bathed earlier and taking a look at the costume Gaius had laid out on his bed, Merlin knew that he wouldn't feel like himself when he put on the rich fabrics. Sighing, he began the painstakingly-long process of pulling on the many layers.

When he was finished, the warlock moved to look at himself in the thin, long mirror at the corner of his room. What he saw surprised him. The costume was made up of black trousers, and a pair of borrowed black boots that were laced up to his knees. His tunic was made of the darkest blue silk, silver embroidered at its neckline. A black cloak was fastened by a beautiful silver brooch, and it was paired off by an ebony mask that covered half of his face in elaborate design, the dark velvet covered in silvery detailing. The costume was finer than anything he had ever worn, and as Merlin looked at the figure in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel that this was the Emrys people expected. His ivory skin was set off by the dark fabric, and it accentuated his cheekbones. Tinted blue, the top made Merlin's eyes look bluer than they usually did, and when he pulled on the mask, the warlock felt like he looked like a creature who had walked out of the night sky.

The young man was itching to take it off.

But Gaius's call sent the warlock out the door, and he stood awkwardly under the physician's gaze.

"Well…" Merlin asked hesitantly.

The old man looked him up and down, walking towards the boy and smoothing down the warlock's midnight black hair. Satisfied that it would stay down for at least five minutes, Gaius stepped back and looked at the young man.

"Well, you don't look like a bumbling idiot, which is an improvement."

Merlin smiled. "Thank you, Gaius."

The old man nodded. "Let's be off. We can't be late."

Following him, the ward appraised his guardian's costume. The physician wore a long deep crimson robe, embroidered with gold. He held a simple gold mask in his hand, and Merlin knew that Gaius probably felt like he did—out of place. Walking down the lowly lit corridors of the castle, the warlock refrained from pulling on the mask until he could hear the ball. Then, with a few scattered butterflies and a sense of excitement that he hadn't even realized he felt, Merlin pulled it on, tying the black silk ribbons to the back of his head.

Taking a deep breath, the sorcerer stepped into the gardens, or in better words, stepped into another world.

It was a world filled with alien creatures adorned in fineries that would have hundreds weeping with jealousy. Every costume was more exotic than the next, every figure more graceful than the next, every face more disguised than the next. Masks adorned the foreign beings, kohl darkened eyes, a flash of rouge, an upturned smile the only hints to who they might be, the bizarrity of their appearance leaving their identity to the fevered mind.

Violins played at the far end, and the sounds of singers broke through the harmonies, giving the creatures something to dance to. Servants in scarlet costumes handed out wine and small foods for those who wished it, but who could eat in the company of such outlandish impossibilities? Hair was pulled up into towering styles that defied the laws of nature, and feathers fell from the jewel encrusted fans held in ladies' dainty gloved fingers. Their gowns were of all kind and color, ranging from boldly striped to simple dark velvet with sweeping necklines. And their masks, oh their masks, people would dream of them for nights to come. Some were shaped into the faces of animals, some held on long poles, some made of pure gold.

But somehow, the creatures seemed at home, for this was their world. The gardens had been done so beautifully, so exotically, that they would be the envy of all those who saw them. Bushes were cut into stunning shapes, the shapes of dancers, the shapes of animals, the shapes of the impossible. Flowers were everywhere, and many had been painted with color and glitter, making them more beautiful than any could have ever dreamed.

There was a rose painted with checkered black and white squares, lined with silver glitter.

There was a lily, its petals the colors of the spectrum.

There was sunflower, painted a deep blue as it reached towards the sky—lit up with the soft hues of a sunset.

The color that makes the eyes doubt themselves, the feel of the soft grass beneath feet, the smell of rich perfume intermingled with red wine that leaves the inhaler dizzy, the sound of the music playing. They all make for a sight that many will dream of for years to come. They make for something that brings tears to the eyes of all those blessed with the ability to see this beautiful world. For ages words will attempt to capture such a moment, but words can never be truly mastered by man nor beast, so words, no matter how eloquent, are vulgar in comparison to that which they seek to capture.

Merlin walked into the crowd of dancers just as the dance ended, and so joined the line of men that waited for their next partners. The tune was struck, and with a quick beating heart, the warlock extended his hand to his first companion. And so the evening went on in such a manner, twirling and dipping and spinning and laughing with unknown peoples, some good dancers, some atrocious, some ladies, some men. Sometime through the evening, a copper skinned dancer fell into his arms, wearing a crimson colored dress embroidered with flowers up the bodice and sleeves. Hand on her waist, he twirled her around, and when they came close, whispered in her ear.

"So how is my dancing, Princess?"

"Good, as it should be, considering I'm the one who taught you, magical farmboy," Gwen giggled back, and he spun her around once more before they switched partners.

All the while he was dancing, Merlin felt a strange tug, a magical awareness of someone or some ones in the crowd. Occasionally, his eyes would meet those of a lady in a black and blue midnight velvet dress. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, and its strands framed her face as they were pulled from orderliness by her dancing. The costume itself was stunning, layers of checkerboard black and white, striped black and blue, rings of silver metal adorning her shoulders, and a sweeping neckline that showed a wide expanse of snowy white skin. Though a mask covered most of her face, Merlin knew in his gut that she was the Lady Morgana, dancing just out of his reach.

Then, out of nowhere, she spun into his arms. His heart beat faster at her proximity—she smelled of rose and some exotic scent, and her full lips were pulled into a wide smile as he danced swiftly and effortlessly with her. Merlin held Morgana close as they spun, and the moment seemed to last forever, all the while the warlock nervous that he would step on her toes. He bent her down, so low that strands of her hair brushed the pressed grass. She laughed out loud as he pulled her up and hoisted her in the air with the other dancers, her weight forgotten at the sight of her bright eyed smile. Suddenly, the music stopped. The couple slowed and then stood to the side, arms brushing with each other and other dancers as they made a path for Uther Pendragon.

The king had shed his mask and went to stand next to King Leodogrance before he began to address those present.

"Our actions over the next few weeks will hopefully bring years of peace and prosperity. It is sure to bring our two kingdoms many pleasures, but few could compare to the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora."

Filling with applause and eager murmurings, the gardens were abuzz with excitement. Merlin had heard of Lady Helen's great talent- it was rumored she had the finest voice in the seven kingdoms, but the warlock had never had the pleasure of hearing her first hand. All around him, people were craning too see the lady as she walked from the castle into the ball, but Merlin was lucky, standing at the edge of the human-made walkway and near the high table where the Kings of both kingdoms sat with the heirs to their thrones, and so he had a perfect view.

The sound of a harp filled the air, and Lady Helen, dressed in a golden gown with a light blue collar and over-coat, brown hair pulled into a tall elaborate hair-due, began to sing. Her arms opened as her enchanting voice spread through the gardens. She began to walk towards the high table, moving her arms gracefully as her song rose in volume and power.

But something felt...off.

As Merlin looked around, he noticed that Lady Helen's voice was actually enchanting, and all around him, people began to nod off and fall to the floor in sleep. Quickly, he covered his ears, watched in horror and shock as everyone fell into a deep slumber, cobwebs appearing from thin air, drooping over them and growing from the far reaching bushes. The candles and torches blew out, and the warlock looked around, noticing that the Lady Helen was approaching the high table. From the folds of her gown she pulled a long dagger, which she lifted in the air to throw at none other than the sleeping Prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon.

As her eyes narrowed and her voice rose to a high trill, Merlin uncovered his ears and held out his hand, eyes burning gold as he attacked the singer. She flew back, and smashed into the ground.

"_Forbearne_," he incanted, and the candles and torches relit, shedding light on what happened to the newly-awakening guests. Cries of fear and surprise filled the air, and all around him, people were getting to their feet. But Merlin didn't have time to worry about them, because the so called "Lady Helen," too, was rising. She was not, in fact, the famed singer, but an old lady clutching a golden stone around her neck. Eyes narrowing at him, she screamed a spell which Merlin easily blocked. Guards moved to apprehend her, but the warlock stopped them.

"Leave, everyone stay back."

The old lady looked at him in shock, but then her wrinkled face pulled into what could only be described as the creepiest smile ever recorded in known history. She began murmuring words quickly, the stone gripped tightly in her hand beginning to glow. Merlin had never heard of the spell she was saying, so didn't know what to do except begin to approach her slowly, arms held out, prepared to mutter a counter curse.

But the old Lady wasn't chanting a spell at all.

The warlock was violently thrown back as six other sorcerers rose from the ground, having been called by their leader. Each wore a black suit and ebony masks. _Well,__at least their dressed for the occasion, t_he warlock thought sarcastically to himself as he got to his feet. This was going to be a problem.

He quickly listed what he needed to do in his head, heart racing as adrenaline surged within him:

_Protect the people around you._

_Kill and/or imprison the unwelcome visitors._

_Stay alive._

However, the warlock didn't have time to begin, because one of the sorcerers threw a fireball at him. Merlin quickly countered, making a shield of water to protect himself and those behind him from the impact, and steam quickly filled the air. Another fireball came, then a bolt of energy, then another fireball, from all the sorcerers, and sweat poured down his face as he struggled to defend himself. Then he realized what they were doing: they were tiring him out so he couldn't defend the royals.

Merlin moved as fast as he could to stand in front of the high table, shielding them with his body. With a deep breath, the warlock went on the offensive. As the next onslaught came, his eyes burned gold and he repelled them, sending them back to their makers. The power with Merlin replied to their attack knocked several of the sorcerers off their feet.

"_CHIATIN_!" The warlock shouted, hand outstretched.

A silver bowl began to grow from the floor to the sky, surrounding Merlin and the attackers in an impregnable bubble of energy. But one of the attackers quickly realized what that vapor was, and before they were completely enveloped, he grabbed one of the nearby dancers—trapping them inside with them. Merlin cursed but continued the spell until they were completely encircled. He quickly changed his priorities.

_Keep the shield spell up._

_Get the lady from the hands of the sorcerers._

_Protect said lady._

_Kill and/or imprison the sorcerers. _

The warlock put the shield spell in the back of his mind, aware of how much it was taking from his energy reserves. He wouldn't be able to control such an advanced spell and fight the sorcerers for long, so time was of the essence. Turning his attention to his enemies, Merlin watched in horror as one of them pulled the dancer tightly against himself, using her as a shield between him and Merlin. The costume looked familiar. He pulled out a dagger and put it at her throat, the blade digging into the exposed skin, blood seeping from the cut. Then he ripped off her mask and Merlin's heart dropped.

The hostage was the Lady Morgana.

**Ooooooo cliffie (not bad though, come on! Not compared with other writers leave you with!)**

**I'd like to thank you guys for all the reviews! Gahhh! More and more people are reading the story and I hope that you guys are enjoying it. If there is anything you want me to change, add, or fix, please please pleaaaaaaaaaaaase let me know!**

**Now for some announcements:**

**I will be traveling during Christmas holidays, so next Wednesday. I will have a scarce amount of internet where I'm going-i'll have to rely on trips to the library. It's going to be a bit difficult, but I'll see if I can post. Because I won't have internet at a scheduled time, my publishing dates are going to be off. So either I'll post more, or less, than usual. Just thought you should now. **

**And since I won't have internet, it means I won't be watching the finale. SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NO SPOILERS IN THE REVIEWS! (begging)**

**Onward**** to the reviews I couldn't respond too via messaging (sorry, I know many of these are late)**

**_Ganos Lal_: Yeah, it's terrible when you find a fic and it's like GAAAHHH YOUR STORY LINE IS BRILLIANT BUT DID YOU EVEN EDIT THIS? I can assure you these chapters get read over...a lot, a lot, a lot, yet sadly things still do fall through the cracks. Ultimately I try to keep the writing good and I try to take care of spelling and grammar, I hope any mistakes aren't too distracting! Tell me if you notice a change and I'll try to pay even more attention!**

**_Jade_: I apologize for not publishing over the weekend (I hope I haven't let you down) I'll try to make up for it though, I promise! Though writer's block shall attempt to stop me, I will stand upon a hill and shout FUCK YOU WRITER'S BLOCK I AM WRITING THAT GODDAMN CHAPTER IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!**

**Okay, others are a bit too old, but I'll be sure to reply to those chapters I can't respond via messaging more often...**

**...**

**by the way, do you even want me to reply to your reviews? Or am I just being annoying?**

**THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND I SHALL SEE YOU ALL SOON!**

**-ladywarlock**


	9. The Stroke of Midnight

**Yes, I know I'm back soon, you'll find out later if you read my notes at the bottom.**

**(see, didn't leave you hanging for too long now, did I?)**

**_Battlegrounds: Chase and Reach_**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_He pulled out a dagger and put it at her throat, the blade digging into the exposed skin, blood seeping from the cut. Then he ripped off her mask and Merlin's heart dropped._

_The hostage was the Lady Morgana._

* * *

For her credit, Morgana was struggling and not panicking-but then again, she probably didn't have time to panic because everything that happened only lasted a minute. In fact, outside the bubble, some of the guests were still waking up and looking onto the scene with a mix of shock, fear, and confusion.

But Merlin couldn't afford to feel any of the above, and he quickly thought of a way to free Morgana from the sorcerer's grasp. _I need a distraction._Looking up at the sky, the warlock had an idea.

"_Boanloag gesweore_!"

The sky swarmed with roiling clouds, and from their depths the warlock pulled out a lightning bolt and smashed it at the sorcerer's rear. Screams wracked the air, and the sorcerer holding Morgana let go of her as he looked back in horror-three of his companions, one being the fake lady Helen, were burnt to a crisp. His hostage needed no invitation, and ran as fast as she could behind Merlin, who was struggling to catch his breath and strength.

"You'll pay for that," the sorcerer at the head snarled. Nodding towards the remaining three, the four sorcerers drew together and pulled their magic together, giving Merlin just enough time to shout a warning to Morgana.

"GET DOWN BEHIND ME AND HOLD ON!" he shouted, crouching down himself and making a shield just in time to protect them from the group effort of the unwelcomed guests. When their ray of energy hit the warlock's shield, he cried out in pain at the strength of it—Merlin and Morgana getting pushed back several feet. The lady had her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, pressed against his back, so close that he could feel her fast-beating heart. The warlock dug his heels in the ground and Morgana followed suit, the two managing to ground themselves against the impact. Merlin turned to Morgana, shouting over the sound of the energy smashing into his magic.

"WHEN I SAY SO, I'M GOING TO LET DOWN BOTH SHIELDS AND I NEED YOU TO DIVE AS FAST AS YOU CAN TOWARDS THE OTHERS. I'LL ONLY LET IT DOWN FOR A SECOND SO YOU NEED TO HURRY. WE HAVE ONLY ONE SHOT AT THIS. CAN YOU DO IT?"

Morgana nodded, letting go of him and concentrating on the spot she would dive to, and the warlock gave her an approving look before turning his focus back on his magic.

"ON MY COUNT. THREE—TWO—ONE—_GO!"_ The warlock shot up to his feet and repelled the energy from the attack, both shields gone. Not looking to see whether she had made it, Merlin pulled them back up after a second, the sorcerers at the other end of the glade recovering quickly and attacking the warlock again. Suddenly, Merlin felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Edwin's grim face.

"She's safe. What can I do?"

Merlin had never been happier to see his professor.

"I need you to take the weight of the larger shield so that I can concentrate on going on the offensive."

"Understood," the disfigured professor nodded, eyes glowing gold in preparation.

"NOW!" Merlin released the shield and watched in relief as Edwin held it up, and then the warlock turned to the sorcerers. Rising slowly to his feet, the young man grit his teeth in pain as he slowly pulled down the shield protecting him from the sorcerers' unyielding attack. Just as it turned to vapor, Merlin opened his arms and let the magic surge from his body towards them, the raw power shaking the ground.

The sorcerers fell apart and Merlin took the opportunity to begin his own attack, sending a wave of fire towards his opponents. By now his magic was purely instinctual, and the power raced through his veins as his eyes burned a permanent gold. Two of the four sorcerers didn't have the strength to pull up their own shields, so screamed as they were pushed back and burned by the intense heat.

The other two grit their teeth and began sending their own attack, and soon both sides were exchanging volleys of energy. The warlock could barely handle the two, and when one of them shot out a bolt, Merlin sidestepped to avoid it only to be hit by his companions', and the warlock cried out in pain as the energy hit him in the center of the chest—sending him flying backwards. Looking down at himself, Merlin winced as he saw a circle of burnt flesh, but didn't dwell on the pain as he protected himself from the continuous attacks. Ignoring the throbbing, he rose on shaky feet and resumed his assault, energy draining as the magic sapped his strength.

He had to end this now.

Hitting his foot on the ground and looking up, his eyes glowed brighter. The earth rippled and lashed out at the sorcerers, a great chasm opening between them. One fell into it with a terrified yell, the earth closing and swallowing him before his friend had time to save him. The man looked at Merlin with shock and sudden horrified realization.

"You…You're Emrys."

"That is what the druids call me," the warlock replied, and replied further with a bolt of energy that sent the man airborne till he crashed to the ground. Walking over to the fallen figure, Merlin held out his hand over him, ready to attack if necessary. Below him, the sorcerer was whimpering with terror, blood seeping from his head, robes torn and scorched by fire.

"P…Pl…Please," he garbled, shaking.

"Who are you?"

"P…Pl…Please. I was just following orders—"

"Whose orders? Who sent you to kill the prince?"

"Mm…Mmm…Morgause…Please don't hurt me…"

Incanting a spell, Merlin watching with satisfaction as chains wrapped around the man's body, and the warlock turned to Edwin and nodded. The professor let go of the shield with a relieved sigh. Merlin moved towards him, only to stop, a sharp pain in his chest and heart. He buckled over, suddenly overwhelmed with nausea, his head throbbing. Vision blurred and feeling deafened, the warlock looked onto the world with a haze, watching people move towards him. But everything was too much as he struggled to stay the flow of magic as well as deal with the pain, and so squeezed his eyes shut to block out the world.

"Everyone stay back, don't approach him," Edwin ordered, running towards the warlock and kneeling in front of him. The boy was on his knees, blood dripping from his face, costume ripped open, chest singed. Somehow, his mask was still on, and the black velvet was smoking on his face. "Merlin, Merlin, I need you to open your eyes."

The warlock winced but opened them, and Edwin's heart constricted as he saw the pain in their still-glowing depths.

"Remember what I told you. Breathe. You control the magic, it doesn't control you. Steady the flow and lock it away. Breathe," he murmured, watching as the young man's eyes lost their glimmer, returning to a dark blue. Catching the boy just as his body gave way, Edwin cradled his head in his lap and pulled the mask off, flinching at how hot the fabric was.

Slowly, Merlin's eyes opened and he coughed as he looked up at his professor. "We did it," he said, lip bitten, voice hoarse.

Edwin smiled. "No, _you_ did it. Can you stand?"

The warlock narrowed his brows in concentration and allowed his professor to help him up, leaning heavily on the older man as he rose to his feet. Around him, everyone was silent, eyes widened in uncertainty as they looked at the young man and the carnage he had wrought. Gaius ran over, and after receiving a nod from Edwin, helped the warlock's other side. But Gwaine had other ideas-ripping off his bright red mask, he pulled his friend from the other men and lifted him up, holding him in his arms and rushing after Gaius into the castle, Gwenivere in quick pursuit. Edwin didn't follow them, only brushed his hair from his face, horrified to find they were covered in blood—and he was sure that it wasn't his. But the professor kept a straight face and walked towards the Kings, bowing promptly before speaking, voice gruff.

"I believe your masquerade is over."

**What do you think? Fitting way to end our dance?**

**Well, I mean it's not REALLY over, but I don't think there is a cliffie...is there?**

**I updated because I know how annoying it is when fics end at cliffhangers, and I didn't want to near my date of travel and not have the time to update. So I figured I'd finish the whole masquerade plotline before I go just in case I don't have the chance to update in a while? Do you like that idea? The 'wrapping up' chapter, so to speak, will be published within the week (cross your fingers). **

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews and I hope that you're enjoying yourselves! Now, I'm off to bed (school tomorrow). Night!**

**-ladywarlock**


	10. Sparks

**Hello everyone, me again! I did promise to finish the masquerade storyline so here it is! **

**_Demons: Imagine Dragons_**

**Hope you like it!**

Gaius threw the door to his rooms open quickly, brushed everything off of one of the tables, and gestured for Gwaine to set his ward down on it. Merlin groaned when he hit the hard wood. Gaius quickly began barking orders.

"Gwen, go fetch some warm water, cloth, and bandages. Gwaine, help me."

The Princess grabbed a bucket from the floor and ran over to a small pump in the corner of the room, moving the handle round and round to get water. Filling it to the brim, she walked back to where Gaius and Gwaine were using knives to cut off Merlin's shirt, strip by strip to avoid pulling at any of the wounds. She then grabbed the cloths and bandages, setting them on another table nearby. By now, they had removed the front half of his shirt, and Gwen's heart filled with fear as she saw the large burn in the center of his chest.

"We can't do anything for it now," Gaius said, seeing the look on her face. "We need to stitch up the wounds on his back before he loses more blood. Gwaine, turn him over, GENTLY. Gwen, wet two cloths, one for me, one for you; we need to clean out the cuts."

Gwaine turned the warlock over and peeled the rest of the shirt off of him, almost crying out at the mutilated mess.

"Don't worry, Gwaine, it's worse than it looks. These are all old wounds, we just need to clean and stitch them back up." The physician began to wash away some of the blood. Gwen flinched when she heard Merlin groan in pain, beginning to struggle under Gaius's hands.

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" she asked shrilly, the cloth in her hand dripping water on the floor, the Princess afraid to hurt her friend.

"The magic is still too fresh in his body. Any poppy we use would go to waste. Gwaine, fetch that piece of leather on the table and put it in his mouth. While Gwen and I work, I need you to hold him down."

The knight looked up at the physician, fear plain in his eyes. Gwaine was a warrior, not a healer. He was used to being the one on the table, not the one watching. But he picked up the leather and put it in Merlin's mouth anyways, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of the warlock's head, holding his friend's hands tightly.

It was a long process and terrible for everyone in the room, and by the time Gaius finished the final stitch on the final wound, Gwen and Gwaine were at their wits end. Merlin's incessant cries of pain and struggles had rubbed their nerves raw, and when Gaius finally nodded to tell them that the worst was over, both young people breathed a sigh of relief. Miraculously, the warlock had managed to stay conscious through the ordeal-much to the dismay of his friends-but his breaths were ragged, eyes glazed over in pain.

"Help me turn him over," Gaius told the knight tiredly, and the two flipped Merlin onto his back, ignoring the grunt of pain. The burn on his chest hadn't gotten any better; in fact, in Gwen's eyes, it looked even worse.

"Cool down the wound, the water will help with the pain. I'm going to go make a salve to heal it. Gwaine, please talk to him since he's still awake. I want him to remain conscious just a bit longer so he can tell me if the salve is working."

The two nodded. Gwen moved to use more water before stopping. The water was a deep crimson. She looked down at her hands and inhaled sharply at the sight of them—they were covered in blood. Gwaine saw this and looked at her with comforting eyes before picking up the bucket and emptying it out the window, refilling it with fresh water. Washing their hands, Gwen picked up a new cloth and wet it carefully, watching her friend's face as she hesitantly began to dab the wound. The warlock winced but did not cry out, doing his best to remain still. Gwaine took his seat and put his hand in his friend's, squeezing it gently to comfort him.

"How are you doing?" The knight asked softly, and above them, Gwen smiled. She rarely saw Gwaine so gentle.

"Been better," Merlin replied, his voice so quiet that his friends had to strain to hear it.

"Tell me, where does it hurt?"

"I think the better question is where does it _not_ hurt."

Gwaine laughed. "Alright, answer that question."

"Nowhere," The warlock said with a smile, flinching as Gwen pulled out a bit of fabric from the torn flesh. His eyes glazed over in pain and he coughed, beginning to nod off.

"Nope, sorry, buddy, I need you to stay awake," Gwaine said sharply, but the warlock ignored him. "Don't make me kiss you!"

That opened Merlin's eyes, and he looked at Gwaine in horror. "If you kissed me, I'd probably die right here."

"Or you'd turn into a handsome prince."

"Then what am I now?"

"A frog," Gwaine replied with a skilled poker face, looking the warlock up and down he elaborated further. "A frog whose just been stepped on."

"Squished."

"Mangled."

"Cooked."

"Dissected."

"Enough!" Gwen interrupted, looking down at the warlock with accusing eyes. "You are supposed to be moaning in agony, not poking fun at yourself."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at her. "So you'd prefer me to be in pain?"

"—To acting like an idiot with idiot number one here, yes!"

"Hey!" Gwaine cried, but he couldn't remain serious for long and the three began laughing-stopping abruptly when Merlin winced.

Luckily, Gaius was finished with the salve and came rushing over. "This should also help with the pain…" the physician said softly, gently rubbing the burn.

The warlock sighed in relief. The salve was cool and dulled the fire in his chest, and Merlin closed his eyes as the jarring pain began to lessen. Gaius smiled softly and finished the salve, adding on a little extra. He then turned to his helpers.

"Gwaine, help me carry him to the tub in the corner so we can clean him up and get him into some clean clothes. Gwen, if you could go to your father—he and King Uther are probably being held safe with their families in the throne room. Make sure he knows where you've been and tell him you'll be staying with me tonight. Also inform him that I'll be visiting shortly. Then go bathe, change, and come straight here. By then, we should have Merlin in bed and you can take over watching him and give Gwaine a chance to do the same. Off you go."

The Princess nodded at the instructions and quickly made her way to the throne room, stopping just outside the doors and realizing she looked a mess. Her once beautiful costume was covered in blood, the sleeves ripped to the elbow where she had torn them so that they wouldn't get in her way while she worked. Pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, she nodded to the guards to open the doors.

She walked in to see her father on the throne, talking hurriedly with Uther. Near them, Arthur was speaking to Morgana, and the lady had a bandage around her neck. Uther was the first to see her and nudged his companion to get his attention. Gwen didn't have time to greet the other royals before her father had her in his arms, holding her tightly.

"I thought I saw you leave with Gaius but I wasn't sure, and when I went to go check the quarters the door was locked. I was so worried. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Dad, really." She followed his gaze as he looked down at her, his eyes widening at the stains on her dress. "Merlin's," Gwen said quietly, and the King pulled away. Over where Arthur was sitting, Morgana had risen, her eyes filled with worry.

"Is he alright?" she asked, and Gwen looked over at her. The lady's once gorgeous costume was ripped, torn, and covered in blood—Merlin's for sure, probably when she'd held him. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, makeup smudged from the ordeal.

"I think he's going to be alright. The court physician will be down here shortly to give you the details," Gwen turned to her father. "I'm going to go get changed, and I'll be spending the night with Gaius to help him. Don't worry, I'm perfectly safe."

Her father nodded and gave her a quick embrace. The Princess curtsied to Uther, and then to his son and ward, catching Arthur's eye. He was looking at her with a mixture of apprehension and something else—admiration? But Gwen wrote it off and left the room, leaving the royals to their brooding.

Uther finally spoke, looking at the other King. "Is it suitable for her to work with the court physician? And help him work on a boy who is nothing more than a servant—"

"Merlin is not a servant but a member of court. And more importantly, he is her friend. She spends a lot of time with him, and so spends a lot of time in the presence of the physician. It was only natural for her to learn a few things about the physician's art—"

"-But still, she is a princess! She should just not be seeing such vulgarities and working so—"

"-When I want your opinion on how to raise _my_ children, I will tell you, Uther," the King snapped before regaining his composure. "Yes, Gwenivere is a princess, but that does not mean she is below work. If she wants to help the physician, she can. In fact, she can do anything she wants to so long that it is for the good of the people."

Uther nodded, keeping quiet, and resumed their previous conversation as if nothing had happened. The King of Glendale smiled—being kings, they were both good at diplomacy…E_ven if the other person was a warty son of a bitch,_ he thought grimly, and replied to Uther's small talk with similar vigor.

* * *

When Gwen opened the doors to the physician's chambers, she found the door to Merlin's room open. She walked quietly towards it, stopping as she saw Gwaine help his friend into bed. The Princess made her way up the stairs and saw Gaius seated on a chair next to Merlin's side, dipping a cloth in water and putting the fabric on the warlock's forehead when he was comfortable.

"He's developed a fever," Gaius said, not looking up.

The Princess looked back down at her friend, heart breaking. He looked so small on the white sheets, topless, the cut on his side bandaged, the burn covered in a green paste. Small beads of sweat ran down his pale skin and Gwen noticed how painfully thin he was—he'd been through a lot these last couple of weeks. Gwaine slipped out of the room, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder before leaving.

Turning her attention to Gaius, she walked over and stood behind him. "Gaius? You should go wash up and get changed, I'll watch him."

"Thank you, Gwenivere." The old man gave his ward one parting look before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Gwen settled down in the chair and dipped the cloth in water, wiping the sweat from her friend's skin. Merlin's eyes opened and he gave her a feeble smile.

"I thought you were asleep," she told him softly.

"Gwaine talks too much," he replied, and Gwen smiled down at him. His eyebrows narrowed at the worry in her eyes, and he moved his hand (even that required a lot of effort) and held hers from where it sat on the edge of his bed. "Don't worry about me…I'm alright."

"I know," she replied, a small tear running down her cheek which he weakly brushed away.

"Then why are you crying, Princess?"

"Because I'm your friend and I'm going to be afraid for you anyways. Now go to sleep. Just a day's rest and you'll be back to people watching with me on the roof."

"Only if you bring the snacks."

"Deal," Gwen replied with a smile, dipping the cloth in water again.

Merlin closed his eyes and was fast asleep in a minute, breaths evening out. The Princess wrung the fabric and dabbed his forehead, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest because it meant that for now he was safe and for now she could protect him—something she rarely could do because he was always so busy protecting her.

Gaius opened the door quietly and smiled at the two of them, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Is he going to be alright, Gaius?"

"Yes. Most of the wounds are old- all he needs is rest now. After a long sleep and a day in bed, he'll be back to stealing food from the kitchens with Gwaine."

Laughing quietly, she looked back up to the old man. "I'll watch him tonight. You should go to my father and then get some rest."

The old physician nodded and squeezed her shoulder before leaving the room, making his way through the castle. The halls were noiseless and the light dim-most everyone would be asleep after such a trying night. Even now, he knew servants were bustling silently through their secret passages, ensuring that everything was clean for when the castle would wake up in the morning. The steady sound of his shoes against the floor was the only thing he could hear and the quiet gave the physician time to compose himself before speaking to the Kings. His heart was still racing with worry for his ward, and even now he longed to be watching the boy and ensuring that he was alright. But duty called, and soon he found himself at the doors of the throne room—guarded by several knights.

Recognizing the physician, they opened the doors and Gaius walked in to find Edwin examining the wound on the Lady Morgana's neck, Uther bustling about the two of them like a frantic mother hen.

"My lord, I'm fine, it's just a scratch—"

"-But it was bleeding—"

"Father, I'm sure she's fine," Arthur said from the corner, and the old physician had a sense that he'd been saying the same thing through the whole process. King Leodogrance was watching the scene with a small amused smile, and that smile widened upon seeing one of his advisors.

"Gaius!"

"My lord," the physician bowed and all the attention in the room turned to him—Morgana looked relieved.

"How is he?" she asked in a small voice.

"Merlin is going to be alright. We restitched—"

"Sorry, 'restitched?" Arthur interrupted.

Gaius turned to the Prince with narrowed eyes. "Merlin was on a quest only a month ago. He fell into the hands of some slave traders and was wounded. But we re-stitched them—and the extra gash he acquired in his fight with you the other day."

Arthur looked away, and for the first time since he had arrived in Glendale, the physician saw shame and humility in his eyes.

"Then he should be fine?" the King pressed.

"Oh yes. He'll need a couple days of rest though—he used quite a bit of magic."

"And what should that have to do with anything?" Uther spoke for the first time, his tone off-hand if not a tad curious.

"All sorcerers have a certain amount of magic in them," Edwin replied, and Gaius nodded for him to continue. "For most of us, it takes effort to draw on the magic. But Merlin is different. He possesses so much magic that it takes an effort to keep himself from using it, and when he releases that power, it becomes difficult to contain again after a long period of time. Not to mention the use of magic exhausts the sorcerer. I held up his shield for only a brief time and I could barely stand afterwards, and he was holding that up, a similar shield to protect himself and the Lady Morgana, all the while attacking the others. It's truly phenomenal, and now it is only natural that he should need time to regain his strength."

"Then just a few days rest and he'll be alright?" Morgana asked, and Gaius didn't miss the look that Uther shot her.

"Yes, my dear. Merlin is strong. He should be on his feet the day after tomorrow. Will that be all, my lords? I am eager to return to my patient," the physician said with a bow.

"Thank you, Gaius, you are dismissed. Oh, and please inform Gwen that she'll be taking a ride with Prince Arthur tomorrow for lunch."

"Are you sure it's wise to allow them to leave the castle so early after an attack?"

"We cannot let the people sense our fear. It will be good for them to see the two of them together—giving a sense of unity and strength."

Gaius nodded. "As you wish, my lord." He bowed to the dignitaries and made his way back to his chambers swiftly, informing Gwen of her arranged plans for tomorrow. And the princess took the news just as he expected.

"WHAT!"

The physician narrowed his eyes at her, and she shot a look at Merlin (who was fast asleep) and lowered her voice. "I need to stay here with Merlin!"

"Your duty is to your kingdom."

"My duty is to my friend."

"A friend who I can promise you will be well looked after. Gwenivere…" Gaius sat in the chair across from her, covering her young hands with his wrinkled ones. "Someday you'll be Queen, and you won't have your father or me to guide and protect you. But you will have the allegiances we build in these days. Someday, Arthur Pendragon will be the king to one of the most powerful kingdoms in the land, and if you are friends, your kingdom will be so much safer. When you're Queen, you'll have nothing but your allies there with you."

"-And Merlin."

The man smiled and kissed her forehead gently. "I know we ask a lot from you kids but it's because we believe in the world you're going to build. So set your animosity for the Prince aside and be the queen I know are. Now, go get some sleep."

Gwen nodded and got to her feet, brushing down her dress and shooting her friend a last look—a look that Gaius didn't miss. "He'll be fine."

"I know."

With that, the Princess made her way out of the physician's chambers and into the night of the castle, the coming morning bringing anew feelings of fear and apprehension that three hours of sleep couldn't cast away.

* * *

Arthur Pendragon was nervous. That was not a thing to be said lightly, because Arthur Pendragon was rarely nervous or frightened because he was Arthur Pendragon, and that stately name simply doesn't warrant such commonly feels. However, when the light flooded his room with the opening of his curtains, he was gripped with a feeling that he could never admit to having. Washing his face didn't make it go away. Getting dressed surely didn't dull its edge. Yelling at his servant—a pastime he usually found most amusing—only made the feeling worse.

And so when the Princess walked up to him in the afternoon, Arthur Pendragon had had a rough morning filled with strange feelings and uncertainties that someone of his stature should not be feeling—especially if the reason for those feelings was the daughter of his "enemy". But a small part of his mind whispered that those feelings were quite warranted when he came face to face to the subject of his emotions. Her hair was down, but pulled back slightly with a small jeweled clip. She wore a simple lavender dress and her tall brown riding boots could just be seen under the tresses. Curtseying, she looked up at him with those large brown eyes, and in their depths he could understand nothing.

"Good afternoon, my lord."

Years of grooming and diplomatic preparation kicked in and he kissed her gloved hand, rising up with an overly straightened back. "Good afternoon, my lady. Shall we go?"

Gwen raised an elegant eyebrow at the stiffness in his tone and replied with a small smile barely hidden on her red lips. "Yes, we shall."

The Princess moved to her horse, a small touch of surprise lining her features when Arthur offered her a hand to help her up. She took it and butterflies lit up her stomach as he placed a hand on her hip and gripped her palm, lifting her up on the chestnut steed. Up on the stairs, their fathers were watching with appraising eyes, doing their best not to intervene. But before their wits reached the end, Arthur mounted his white horse fluidly and allowed the princess to lead the way as they made their way out of the citadel, servants close behind.

Similarly, a lady watched the two royals making their way through the gates and into the woods, shared the same nervousness that the two other young people were feeling. She looked around, ensuring that she wasn't being followed, and made her way down the winding corridors to a worn wooden door, reading the plaque above the entrance before knocking hesitantly.

Gaius looked up and called out for the guest to enter, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the Lady Morgana making her way through his door. "My lady, how may I be of service?"

She looked down before smiling softly, if not a little uncertainly. "I just came here to see how Merlin was doing…and to thank him for what he did for me last night."

"He was merely doing his duty, my lady, there is no need to thank—"

"—I would feel better if I did."

The physician smiled at her and gestured to a door at the end of the chamber. "I'd call him out but I would rather he rest for the day."

"Of course." Morgana made her way up the stairs, looking back at the physician and going in when he nodded.

He was seated, leaning against the headboard of his small bed, a large leather-bound volume in his hands. Looking up at the sound of the hinges creaking, he hurriedly tried to right himself upon seeing the richly-clad lady.

"Please, don't," Morgana said quickly and Merlin froze, the two looking at each other in silence, both unsure how to proceed, both inexplicably drawn to the other. She sat down gracefully on the wooden chair by his bedside, looking up at him with kohl-lined, jade eyes. "I just wanted to thank you for protecting me last night."

Merlin cocked his head in surprise, mouth dry as he replied. "It was my duty, my lady. I could surely not leave you in the hands of those sorcerers."

"Yes, of course, I know." She blushed softly and looked down. "It's just that I was listening to what Edwin was saying last night, about how much magic you were using—"

"You think my getting hurt was your fault," Merlin said incredulously.

Morgana looked up at him. "If I had gotten out of the way faster, that sorcerer wouldn't have grabbed me and you wouldn't have needed to worry about me…"

"No no, don't think like that!" he interrupted. "I'm just amazed that you could even think that this was your fault. If you are so worried, then I can assure you that I am perfectly fine, and that protecting you didn't hurt in any way or form. In fact, it was an honor serving you, my lady." Merlin gave her a cheeky smile, bowing as best as he could in his seated position to accentuate his words.

Morgana laughed. "Good...I'm glad you're alright."

The two were silent for a bit, each avoiding looking at the other. Merlin broke the quiet with his soft voice, and their eyes met as he spoke to her hesitantly.

"Why are you here, my lady?"

"I wanted to thank you…"

"But why? I did my duty. I'm sure hundreds protect you every day. Do you go to visit each and every one of them?"

"No…"

"Then why did you come to me?"

"Because I knew that Uther wouldn't thank you for saving my life—neither would Arthur, so I felt that I needed to."

"Why do you think they wouldn't thank me?"

"Because they are afraid of you."

"And you're not afraid of me?"

"No," Merlin's eyes widened and Morgana looked away, continuing in a whisper.

"What if magic isn't something you choose? What if it chooses you? Surely not all people with magic can be evil, and you proved that last night."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to thank me."

Morgana smiled and got to her feet, making her way to the door before turning around and giving the raven-haired warlock another look, studying his motionless figure as he looked back at her with those deep blue eyes. "Tomorrow, if you're feeling better, Gwen, Arthur and I are to go for a ride, if you wanted to come with us…"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady."

"There's no need to be so formal, you can call me Morgana, you know."

"Then it would be my pleasure…Morgana."

"I'll look forward to it…Merlin."

Had Gaius asked the warlock why his smile never faded that whole day, Merlin would have only smiled wider and told the physician that he was feeling a lot better, which was both true and not true, because the sorcerer was still in excruciating pain, but the pain was forgotten with the image of ruby red lips smiling. So it wasn't that the pain was gone, it was that his mind was too busy with other things to register that the pain was ever there in the first place.

**Tadaaaa (takes a bow). Figured I might as well post this because I FINALLY FINISHED CHAPTER 16. The boob and I had quite a lot of difficulty, but it's officially up to standard! **

**Ok. The information. **

**I am traveling tomorrow night to the United States, I'm excited but I also won't have internet except for the wifi I hack into in Barnes and Nobels :P Therefore, publishing will be sporadic if I can publish at all, and I apologize in advance for that. I ended at this chapter because I figured it wasn't a cliffhanger, and after this chapter is a little time jump that leads on into a new storyline, so it felt like a good place to stop. **

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews, they are all so flattering and I'm in love with each and every one of you! 45 REVIEWS FOR 9 CHAPTERS! gahhh I'm so pleased. Really, in all honesty, the messages really help motivate me when I write and also let me know what you like so I can give you more of it. **

**So thank you so so so so much, it's honestly a pleasure. **

**Finally, I have a question to ask. Because I'm going to be on vacation I'm planning on doing a lot of writing, and it's about time that I ask you how sexual you want the story to be. Description wise, I mean. I can go full out, or a I can go halfway, or if you lot don't want, I won't write it at all. Please, please, please answer this! It's an important question and will help shape the direction the story goes! Just tell me, I don't care either way, this is your story, do with it what you please!**

**Happy Holidays everyone and Merry Merlin Watching!**

**-ladywarlock**


	11. By the Lakeside

**Hello everyone! I hope everyone's holidays are going well! Despite my Merlin-less situation, I've been good (THOUGHT I SHOULD REMIND YOU SO NO ONE PUTS ANY SPOILERS IN THE REVIEWS). Well I finally got my hands on internet so i hope you enjoy!**

**Anyways, I'm hoping this chapter makes you smile (I've heard things have been pretty dark in Camelot). Strength my lovely Merlinians, and I hope you enjoy!**

**_Long Live: Taylor Swift (this song will give you merlin-ending feels, trust me)_**

**(PS: Time jump, you'll learn about it)**

"Please."

"Darlin—"

"Come on, Father, please! We'll be safe!"

"How can we be sure?"

"We'll have Arthur and Merlin with us, that's an army all by itself."

The two Kings turned away from their daughters to the young men standing silently behind them, who were giving the leaders reassuring looks.

Glendale's king was the first to break.

"Well, it is their last week together…" he turned to his fellow monarch, who sighed.

"Fine-but only if you promise to be careful," Uther turned to his son and his friend. "You'll keep them safe?"

"As if Morgana needs anyone to look after her, Father," Arthur said, smirking at the King's ward. "But don't worry, we'll be fine."

"Then alright," Uther Pendragon nodded his approval and smiled as the four young people cheered. "Now go, you should find somewhere to camp before it gets dark out."

Gwenivere, Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin bowed low to their Kings before rushing out from the throne room, bursting into laughter when the guards shut the doors behind them.

"See, I told you it would work!" Morgana said with a smile, adopting her best puppy eyes. "Who could resist this?"

"I could," Arthur replied with a poker face. There was a moment's silence before the group burst into another fit of giggles.

"Come on, we need to get packed," Merlin pushed Arthur down the hall before winking at the girls. "We all know how long it takes for the Princess to prepare for a camp out."

"Hey!" Arthur moved to hit the warlock, but the young man swiftly dodged and slid down the hall.

"Arthur!" Gwen called back the Prince with a wide smile. "We need to get ready-you can throw him in the lake later."

The Prince of Camelot raised an eyebrow at the thought before returning the grin. "Good idea. I'll meet you down by the horses soon. We'll leave once everyone is ready."

"Well then, hurry up! Like Merlin said, you take the longest to prepare."

Arthur opened his arms incredulously at Morgana. "Now you're siding with him? I can't even with the both of you- thank gods Gwen is coming." He slung an arm over the Princess's shoulder, but she only looked up at him sheepishly.

"I'm afraid I agree with the other two."

The Prince clutched his chest as though wounded, staggering down the hall in acted pain. The girls giggled and ran past him, rushing up to their rooms, skirts held up carelessly.

Meanwhile, Merlin was finishing packing the food, placing them in large leather sacks. Gaius walked in to see the boy in a flurry of action, his clothes flung everywhere.

"Merlin, are you sure this is a good idea?"

The warlock froze and looked up at his guardian, eyebrows raised. "Sorry?"

"You're all going camping, with no guards, no one to protect you… "

"Please, Gaius, don't pretend that you're concerned about our safety. You know Arthur and I can handle anything-only a week ago we fought off a griffin together. Bandits won't be a problem. So tell me, what is your real concern?"

Gaius sighed, sitting at the edge of the small bed. "Your nightmares haven't stopped."

"I'm bringing the sleeping draft-"

"Merlin, you know that's not what I mean."

The warlock began packing again. "My dreams mean nothing. Morgana is a friend. Whatever I see at night, it's another reality. Some other future where Camelot and Glendale aren't allies, but now they are. And even more than that, they're friends too. We're friends."

"Just be careful."

"I always am," Merlin smiled at his guardian. "The four of us, we've been inseparable for a month. Why do you only bring this up now?"

"Because the Pendragons are leaving in a week, so if Uther was to make a move he'd do it now."

"You know I don't trust Uther, never have. But I trust Arthur…and I trust Morgana. They won't let him do anything, and he'd be foolish to try."

"Of course," Gaius got to his feet. "Let me help you."

Merlin thanked him and the two set to work, and soon the warlock made his way to the courtyard laden with bags filled with supplies. Gwen and Morgana helped him secure them to the horses, finishing just as Arthur made his way down the stone steps.

"See," Merlin said with a snicker. "What did I say?"

The Prince threw his riding glove at the sorcerer, who only laughed harder and mounted his horse.

"Come on," Morgana turned to Merlin, her hair pulled into a braid. "Race you to the forest."

"You're on, _my Lady_," he replied mockingly, spurring his horse and riding after her, the sound of the hooves smashing against the cobblestones drowned only by the sound of their laughter.

They raced out of the gates, hitting the fields at full gallop. Morgana's hair had come undone, and now flew behind her in black waves, her jade eyes shining.

"What's Arthur going to say when you get beat by a girl?" she shouted as her horse pulled ahead, her voice barely heard over the sound of the wind.

Merlin only laughed, bending down his horse's neck and whispering softly in his ear. "_Ocius_."

His mount surged forward with newfound strength, and Morgana screamed in frustration when he sped past her, Merlin laughing.

"Cheater!"

"You have no proof!"

"Oh yes I do."

"I'd stop yelling at me and focus on riding because I can see the forest!"

Morgana spurred her horse and the raven-haired pair raced side by side, casting each other wicked looks. Flattening himself on his horse, Merlin relished the feel of the wind on his face. If not for the adrenaline in his blood, he would've thought himself flying.

Perhaps it was his moment of sentiment that gave Morgana the chance to pass him, shouting in victory as she pulled the horse to a stop just before the trees, Merlin arriving mere seconds afterwards.

"I win!" she laughed breathlessly, and the two took a moment to catch their breath. They were quiet for a moment before looking at each other, stupid grins plastered on both their faces.

"I think that's debatable," Merlin finally said.

"Pardon?"

"I think it's debatable if you won, I think it was a tie."

Morgana leaned over and cuffed him behind the head, eyes wide. "Don't tell me you're a sore loser, Merlin."

"I can't be a sore loser if I didn't actually lose."

"Goddess, Merlin, I expect more from you. I won fair and square."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did NOT."

"Did TOO."

"Oh will you too stop bickering? Merlin, just give it to Morgana, God knows she won't let you forget it either way," Gwen said as she and Arthur rode up to the other two.

"To be honest, I'm surprised Merlin could even keep up," Arthur said with a smile, looking at Merlin with a cocked head. "How does it feel to get beat by a girl?"

"As if you're the one to be talking, dollop head, seeing as Morgana beat you in a duel last week."

"Ouch, low hit."

The two boys looked around for backing before realizing that they were alone, the girls riding off and leaving them to their arguments.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted, the Prince and the warlock spurring their horses and leading them into the woods, after the princesses.

After almost an hour of riding through the trees, Merlin and Gwen dismounted, their guests doing the same. They led the horses to a clearing, and Morgana gasped.

The lake was large and blue, shining in the afternoon sun. Snow topped peaks could be seen at the horizon, the sky cloudless. They had stopped at a small clearing, surrounded by trees. There was a drop to the lake below, the roots of trees jutting out of the earth. A branch hung off the willow closest to the water, obviously used as a swing into the crystal water.

"It's beautiful," Morgana breathed as they approached the edge, torn between looking at her surroundings and the shimmering blue.

"Merlin and I love coming here when the weather's lovely; it makes for a perfect swim," the Princess said with a smile, looking up at Arthur, who only looked down at her. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that it was perfect.

"Well, we'll just have to test the water to see if it's good for swimming today," the Prince said once he'd torn his gaze from Gwenivere. "Merlin?"

The warlock didn't have time to brace himself before Arthur shoved him off the edge of the clearing and into the lake. Merlin spluttered in the blue depths, the cool water shocking him. But the water felt good and he soon righted himself in the deep lake, wiping the hair from his face before looking up at the other three who were doubled over in laughter.

"PENDRAGON!" The warlock shouted, eyes narrowing and burning gold.

Arthur yelped as he was pulled by the ankle into the air by some invisible force. The invisible force then promptly dropped him into the water. The Prince gasped, taking a moment to pull himself together before lunging at his friend, the two tackling each other in the lake.

Gwen and Morgana laughed, looking at each other with large eyes before jumping into the lake at the same time—their splash stopping the boys' wrestling. The Princesses swam towards their friends, their hair making halos in the water behind them.

"You really mustn't blame me for pushing you in, Merlin. It was Gwen's idea."

"Hey! I was joking!" the Princess ducked into the water as the warlock attempted to splash her. "It's not my fault that the prat took it literally!"

"Again, my word!"

Arthur clubbed the warlock behind the head before swimming up to Gwen, wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning down and kissing her.

"Oh, please." Morgana and Merlin looked away, gagging.

"Get a room!"

"Do you have to do this here?"

"I swear."

"Now stop and breathe."

"Ewwww."

"Stop snogging."

Merlin turned to Morgana. "We never should have tried to get them together."

"I agree-worst idea ever."

"Since we caused this catastrophe, we have to stop it. How could we break them up?"

"Does Gwen have any ex-lovers?"

"I think there was this guy called Lancelot—but he's dead."

"No problem, we'll just summon him from the dead and order him to get in-between them."

"Perfect."

"You do realize we can hear you?" Arthur scowled at the two as he pulled away from Gwen.

Morgana looked back at Merlin with a smirk. "Next time we prepare evil plans, ensure we are alone."

"Whatever _my lady_ commands."

The ward splashed him with water, happy that she was wearing riding gear and was not weighed down by a heavy dress.

"Hey, what was that for?!"

"Nothing—just felt like splashing you."

Merlin returned the favor, Arthur and Gwen joining in, the group's laughter ringing through the empty space.

After long hours spent swimming and tackling each other in the calm waters, Merlin swam back to shore.

"Where are you going?" Arthur shouted behind him.

"I'm tired, just going to sit on land for a few."

"Oh don't be such _a girl_, Merlin."

"Only when you stop being a prat."

"I'm not a prat."

"Then I'm not a girl."

Arthur stopped pressing, leaving his friend to climb to shore. Merlin pulled off his jacket and scarf, draping them on branches in the sun to dry. Still sopping wet, the warlock set up camp before taking a seat at the edge of the water, feet dangling, watching the other three mess around. His shirt stuck to him uncomfortably as it dried, but he kept it on—he didn't want them to see the ugly scars that had become permanent fixtures on his pale torso. He lay down and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin.

"Merlin, are you alright?"

The warlock opened his eyes to see that Morgana had climbed up to join him, looking down at him with her bright green eyes, hair tangled and dripping water. Her makeup had washed off in the swim and her clothes stuck to her body—Merlin couldn't stop himself as the words spilled from his dry lips.

"You look beautiful."

Her eyes widened and she blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you—but you haven't answered my question."

"I'm fine, just a little tired," Merlin pulled himself up, looking at her with eyes the color of the lake below them.

"The sleeping drafts aren't working?"

He smiled at her, and she took a seat next to him, the two looking out at the water. Arthur and Gwen were splashing each other, the sounds of their laughter mingling with the songs of the birds in the branches.

"Don't worry now." Merlin leaned over and kissed Morgana on the forehead. "Now's not the time for it."

She nodded and changed her position, laying her head on his lap and stretching out in the sun, closing her eyes. The warlock looked down at her softly, running his hands through her wet hair.

"_Blossmae_."

Morgana opened her eyes to see the wildflowers at the edge of the forest pull themselves from the dirt and walk towards them, roots acting like delicate legs, watching wide eyed as the warlock began to braid them into her hair.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"Magic?"

"No—braiding a girl's hair."

The raven-haired boy laughed, his eyes flashing gold as he called more flowers over. "My mother taught me one winter when she was sick. She wanted to look respectable when the doctor would come, so told me to braid her hair. I practice on Gwen when her maidservant is busy every now and again."

Morgana nodded. He looked down at her, and he could see his reflection in her shining eyes. Hair damp and tussled, contrasting harshly to his pale skin. His shirt—wrinkled-sticking to the lean muscles of his chest.

Suddenly they were kissing. He didn't know if he had kissed her, or if she'd kissed him, all he knew was the feel of her lips pressed against his. Velvety soft and warm, her tongue flitting off his own as he pulled her closer. Her fingers made their way into his hair, tugging at the black strands as she attempted to close any space between them. She smelled of fresh water and flowers, her skin warm from its hours in the sun. His heart beat fast in his chest, and he could feel hers drumming against his torso. They didn't hear Arthur and Gwen cheering until they pulled apart, tasting each other's breath in the aftermath, panting heavily.

"Well, about time!" Gwen shouted, and the two laughed as they looked at her, a wide smile on the Princess's face.

Arthur however, did not share the reaction.

"Gods, Merlin, she's practically my sister," he complained.

"Well Gwen is 'practically' mine, so we're even, mate," Merlin replied. Morgana laughed, her head returning to its position on his thigh.

He looked back at her and gave her a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back and continuing with her hair, his body feeling warm and languid. Morgana closed her eyes in pleasure, allowing his musky scent to cover her and the feel of the flesh beneath his trousers act as her pillow. Slowly, the feel of his hands wrapping and twirling her hair, gently and softly, set her to a dreamless sleep—the sun on her damp clothes and skin, the sound of splashing water the last things she sensed.

* * *

_He was strung up to the ceiling, and a bucket of cold water woke him from the darkness. Through his fluttering eyelashes he could see their faces. Olaf. Gaelic. They smirked before him, and guards in bloodied armor stood around him. Merlin looked up to where his hands were chained, his magic imprisoned once again. The same helplessness, the same fear. He tried to free himself but his innate ability failed him. Olaf approached him, so close that Merlin could see the cracks in his yellowed teeth._

"_You're going to pay for this,__sorcerer."_

_Gaelic walked behind him, and Merlin needn't be told what he was about to do when he felt his shirt tear off his body. The sorcerer looked up, and suddenly Olaf's face changed to Morgana's—but not his Morgana. This lady was cold, her jade eyes like ice, red lips faded. Her skin was so pale, her hair black as midnight, tangled and terrible._

_A__ q__ueen of ice._

"_Please,"__ h__e begged as he heard the whip flick back. But she was silent and cold, watching with an indifferent gaze—though in the depths of her eyes he saw something like pleasure. Merlin struggled, desperately calling for his magic to save him from this torture. No response—it had abandoned him. "Please, no…"_

_A lick of fire tore down his back and the warlock screamed._

Merlin jolted upright, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out. He breathed quickly, his heart racing in his chest. Looking around, he allowed the familiarity of his surroundings calm him.

The warlock had been sleeping on a bedroll near a fading fire. Arthur slept across from him, the girls having reluctantly taken the tent. Merlin stretched when suddenly he felt a piercing pain in his back. He moved a hand to touch it, finding it covered in blood when he pulled it away. He struggled to his feet, doing his best to remain quiet and not wake anyone, pulling out the salve Gaius had prepared him in case something like this happened.

Merlin stumbled to the edge of the lake, sitting down heavily, closing his eyes to ease the throbbing in his head.

"Merlin?"

The warlock looked up to see Morgana walking out towards him, wrapped in a red blanket.

"Morgana…I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No…I was already awake. Couldn't sleep." She smiled as she came closer, and Merlin turned his head to keep from looking at her.

But it was too late.

"Merlin, Merlin what's wrong?"Morgana knelt by his side, eyes widening at the blood on his shirt. "What happened?"

"Nothing…just a bad dream."

"You're bleeding!"

"My wounds do that sometimes. This salve will heal them. Don't worry."

Her hand reached out and touched his face, turning it so he looked into her eyes. "Let me help you."

The warlock nodded and watched her as she ripped the blanket around her, dipping the cloth in water. She turned to him, blushing slightly in the dark.

"Shirt off."

He hesitated for a moment before doing what she asked, looking down at his hands as he heard her gasp.

"Who did this to you?" she asked in horror, taking in the long scars on his pale back, bleeding, impossible not to recognize as the marks of an iron-tipped whip.

"It's a long story."

"I have all night."

Merlin closed his eyes as she reached over and began to wash the blood from his flesh, flinching slightly at the feel of the frigid water on his feverish skin.

"It's been over two months and I still can't sleep at night," the warlock said quietly. "On a journey to see the Great Dragon, I was captured and taken to a mine. They put us in chains. They made us dig. I saw things down there in the dark that I will never un-see. The faces of the beaten and broken, they haunt my eyes when I close them. "

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, and slowly her arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace.

"It's over, you're safe now."

Merlin wilted under her touch, his muscles relaxing and his heart beat slowing. Morgana buried her head in his neck, kissing the pulse there softly.

"I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone—except Gaius," the warlock finally said, and the King's ward pulled away. She began dabbing his skin with the salve, rubbing it over the wounds in gentle circles.

"You can tell me anything."

"I've told everyone that the reason I couldn't use magic in the mine was because I was always too weak. Only Gaius knows the truth-the truth is that they found the way to bind my magic. My one weakness. Chains forged in dragon's breath, imprisoning us sorcerers' abilities."

"How is it your one weakness?"

"I can get through anything, fight as hard as I can, with my magic by my side. But to have it bound—I'm helpless. I am nothing without my magic. It feels like there's a hole in my chest when it's gone, and it hurts. I…I never want to go through that again. It's why no one can ever know that there are chains that can bind the most powerful sorcerers' magic, because if that information was to fall in the wrong hands…the information that even _my _magic can be imprisoned...it would be a great weapon."

Morgana kissed him softly. "I won't tell anyone. Trust me."

The warlock sighed in relief, looking down to see that she had finished the salve.

"Thank you."

"I'm just glad you're alright."

He opened his arms and she fit into him, her arms grasping him tightly around the neck. Merlin clung to her and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hands on his bare skin.

And they stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other to ward off the nightmares. Morgana held him until it was his turn to fall asleep in her arms, and she cradled his head in her lap, softly stroking his hair. Every now and again he would stir, and she would see his eyes fluttering as he was caught in the horrors deep in the recesses of his mind, but she would merely murmur words of comfort. Brush his arm, kiss him softly, and he would still under her touch, falling back asleep. She covered his bare torso with the red blanket, the heat from his fevered skin keeping her warm.

When the sun rose above the mountains, far in the east, Morgana gently untangled herself from him, laying him gently on the soft earth. She bent down and picked up his shirt, washing it in the cold river water and hanging it to dry. Morgana cast Merlin one last glance before disappearing back into the tent, ensuring that when the other two woke up in the morning, they wouldn't pressure him into answering anything.

**Yes, I know. Not very like me, no drama. But what can I do? Merlyn loves to remind me that you lot like fluff here and there, but is she right? Tell me in the little white doobly-doo below!**

**Happy holidays! Enjoy the Merlin watching, I'm there with you in spirit! I'll be watching the episodes Jan. 3, so I'm counting the damn seconds!**

**(P.S: you may have another chapter very soon, I want to make sure you guys get enough for your wait! We'll just have to see!)**


	12. The Beginning of the End

**Hello everyone! I know it hasn't been long but I managed to get some internet and my mind went WHAT THE HELL! So yes, for those who celebrate, here is your Christmas present! The chapter sets up the next major plotline, with a little fluff thrown in, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reviewing! It's nice to hear from you and I hope everyone is enjoying themselves!**

**_Broken Pieces: Apocalyptica ft. Lacey Sturm_**

The throne room burst into applause when the kings of Glendale and Camelot signed the treaty that had taken a month to draft, the sound echoing through the vast hall. Gwen and Arthur looked at each other happily, Morgana and Merlin casting each other glances with hidden smiles.

A truce was finally sealed.

As the space quieted, Uther began to speak, large golden crown shining on his gray hair.

"In honor of the truce, we will be welcoming a delegation of Glendale to Camelot in two weeks time so that our new allies can survey our army. Hopefully, from here on out, they will fight side by side instead of at opposing ends of the field. As a sign of good faith, the Princess Gwenivere will be accompanying us on the way home, and will stay with us until her father arrives. This will give the people ample time to see the future heirs together."

The crowd applauded again, cat calls ringing from the knights in the back. Uther nodded in approval and the people dispersed, buzzing with excitement.

Merlin followed Gaius out, walking towards his room where his bags were packed. He was to accompany Gwen—her father insisting that the warlock should go to keep his daughter safe in case Uther had something planned. But Merlin wasn't worried. In the time before Glendale's delegation would arrive, Arthur and Morgana had promised to show their future guests Camelot and its vast lands, from the lakes to the snowy wastelands of the North.

The following morning, Merlin saddled his horse, all of Glendale lining the streets to bid the guests from Camelot farewell. Pulling himself up, the warlock smiled at Arthur's reassuring wink. Merlin took his place beside Morgana—right behind Arthur and Gwen, and the procession began. Rose petals rained down from the wooden balconies of shops and homes, banners of all colors waving in the breeze. It was a celebration of color and peace, and the warlock's smile didn't fade until the delegation slipped into the woods and made camp later that evening.

* * *

"How are you doing?" Merlin asked the princess as he helped her dismount. Gwen smiled at him.

"You know, you really don't have to worry about me—you're here as a friend, not a protector."

"I'm afraid your father would disagree."

Gwenivere only gave him a reassuring smile and a tight embrace. "Come, let's go join Arthur and Morgana."

The camp was abuzz with chatter, fires licking up sparks in the darkness, smoke furling into the dark canopy above their heads. Being near onlookers, the four kept civil distance between one another, but no one watching them could ignore how comfortable they were with each other. Merlin and Arthur lounged on one side of the fire, talking quietly, the girl's gossiping about what to wear to the opening feast when they arrived nearby.

Merlin looked on lazily at the scene—it felt like a dream. He straightened and stretched, pulling a piece of wood nearby and prompting the fire. As he pulled the long-branch away, he noticed fire licking its tip. Unable to resist, he blew on the sparks and watched with a smile as they formed the image of a dragon with unfurled wings.

Arthur's sudden grip on his shoulder surprised him, and the image faded.

"What do you think you're doing?" the prince hissed, looking around anxiously.

"Nothing, why?"

"Merlin, you can't practice magic here."

The warlock pulled back with narrowed eyes, the girls quieting when they felt the tension between the two. "What do you mean 'you can't practice magic here'? Are we not allies?"

"We are, but people from Camelot aren't familiar to magic—they fear it. It's better if you not demonstrate your…abilities…while you're here."

"But we're not even in Camelot yet—"

"Merlin, please," the prince begged. "Don't push it."

The warlock shook his head and stood up, walking away from where his friends watched him with drawn faces. After a moment, Arthur went to go follow him, but Morgana stopped him.

"Here. Let me go."

Nodding, the prince watched his friend and the king's ward disappear into the forest.

"Why do you always come after me?"

"Because I worry about you."

"You shouldn't."

"But I still do."

"Morgana." Merlin stopped but didn't face her. "I'd just like a moment of peace with my thoughts."

The king's ward sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "You know it won't always be like this. Someday, magic will be accepted in the seven kingdoms, you won't have to hide your gifts."

"If only it was just hiding my gifts," he replied, turning around. "I feel like I'm playing with fire. I'm never sure if my abilities are accepted or not wherever I go, even with Arthur, I know that he's nervous when I use it. Even though he knows me, he still fears me because of who I am. I can't help that I was born a monster in his eyes, and I've done everything in my power to change that. But even now that we're friends I know that he looks down upon my magic."

"Times will change," she said softly. "When Uther is dead and Arthur king, Gwen his queen, magic will be accepted."

"Until then we go unmarked in life as we do in death."

Morgana wrapped her arms tightly around him, kissing him chastely. Suddenly, she pulled away.

"I want to show you something."

Merlin looked at her curiously, watched her as she closed her eyes, face furrowing in concentration. Her palm was gripped tightly, and his eyes widened as it opened.

Her eyes flashed gold, and a small lick of flame appeared in her palm.

"You have magic?" he choked, looking at her in surprise.

Morgana smiled. "After that day by the lake, I began wondering why I was so drawn to you, to your magic. I wondered why our dreams were so similar. I went to Edwin for help, and sure enough, he told me that I had magic. But I made him promise not to tell you—I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You have magic…" Merlin breathed again, looking at her in new eyes. "Then it seems I'm not alone."

"You never were—but yes, me having magic does give our relationship a little boost," she joked, giggling when he lifted her up and spun her around. He kissed her passionately on the lips, and Morgana melted into him.

When they finally pulled apart, blue eyes meeting jade, she spoke with a serious voice. "Don't tell anyone—I don't want Uther finding out. Even as his ward, I know that he won't hesitate in having me locked away should he catch a whiff of this."

"Morgana, you can trust me."

"I know," she looked down and blushed, finally taking his hand. "Let's go back to the camp—Arthur and Gwen will be waiting for us."

* * *

Merlin's eyes widened as they finally broke through the forest. They'd been riding for three days, and now the warlock caught sight of Camelot's infamous citadel. The castle seemed to shine, looming over everything else as it stood tall and proud in the horizon.

"Not too shabby, is it, _Merlin_?" Arthur teased as he caught up with the warlock, grinning widely.

"You didn't do it justice in your descriptions," Gwen breathed as she looked onto it.

"I've seen nicer," Merlin finally said, ducking low to avoid Arthur's blow.

"Come on, let's go." Morgana spurred her horse forward and the group caught up with the rest of the company.

Entering through the city's large gates, Merlin looked down at the cheering crowds, waving banners as they welcomed their monarchs home. Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana were all playing the part—smiling and laughing regally, waving to the masses below them. But Merlin felt out of place, and did his best to smile as the people eyed the party with curiosity.

Especially him.

Rumor that he'd come must have spread, and it didn't take long for the people to realize that the raven-haired boy on the gray horse was the infamous sorcerer. The warlock focused on the path ahead of him as he felt eyes bore into him, studying his attire and pale skin, judging his thin frame and untidy hair. He wondered what they thought of him, after all he was just a boy - they probably expected someone old with a long white beard and a pointy hat.

It seemed like an eternity of sound and color until they finally dismounted and entered the great citadel, servants bowing to the monarchs as they walked through the doors. Arthur greeted the nobles and knights they had left behind before personally escorting Gwen and Merlin from the havoc of their arrival, Morgana following behind them.

The people around them thinned, and as they strode down the stone corridors, the four soon found themselves alone. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief—and Arthur didn't miss it.

"What is it, Merlin? Can't keep up with the politics of power?"

"No, it's just riding three days with you has put me off."

Gwen and Morgana giggled, Arthur shooting them a look before stopping at a great mahogany door.

"These will be your rooms, Gwenivere, Merlin." The prince opened the doors and the friends walked in, taking in the detailed furniture. It was a large room, with a large bed, a large window, and crisp white bedsheets. Towards the right was a smaller room, with a smaller bed, a small window, and less crisp white bedsheets. "Your father asked that we keep you two together," Arthur explained at the guests' questioning looks.

"Good. I don't mind." Gwen walked towards the window, looking out onto the city. "It's a beautiful view."

"I'm glad you like it. Morgana and I are just down the hall. We'll escort you to the welcoming banquet tonight. Until then make yourself at home—explore the castle."

"Come on, Arthur, they probably want to wash up." Morgana dragged the prince from the room. The blonde and the raven-haired girl's bickering could be heard long after they closed the door.

Gwen and Merlin were quiet, looking at their surroundings.

"It's strange, being in this castle," Gwen finally said, and the warlock looked up at her. "I'd only ever heard horror stories—that it was made of black stone and that it's very halls were wet with blood. But now that I'm here, I find that it looks a lot like home."

"Someday it might be," the warlock answered, and Gwen blushed. "Oh come on, you know you've considered marrying Arthur. You know both of your fathers have considered it. And you love him. Why do you still redden at the mention of it?"

"Because I still feel so young. I know I'm not, I'm a _princess_ for God's sake, but I still can't shake the feeling that everything is moving so fast. So much has changed since we met Arthur and Morgana, it feels like a new chapter in a book."

"A good chapter," Merlin said with a smile, putting his arms around her.

"Yes, a very good chapter," the princess replied, allowing him to hold her tightly for a couple more seconds before pulling away. "I'm glad you're here, magical farmboy."

"And I'm glad too, princess. Now come on, let's wash up—I want to see the castle."

Sadly, Merlin underestimated the time it took a princess to wash up and get changed, and after some pressing from Gwen, the warlock walked out the door and into the stone halls of Camelot.

He strolled slowly, taking in the high-arched ceilings and rich tapestries. His steps echoed down the empty halls, and it was only now that Merlin walked alone that he could comprehend the sheer vastness of it.

The warlock turned a corner, walking back to his room when he saw Arthur marching towards him with four guards behind him.

"Arthur," Merlin called out in greeting. But the prince didn't reply. "Arthur? What's wrong?"

The blonde-haired man stood in front of him, looking the warlock up and down before nodding to his men.

"Arrest him."

Merlin looked at his friend incredulously as two guards walked behind him, roughly pulling his hands back and clasping him in chains.

"You must be joking," Merlin said with a chuckle. "Come on, Arthur, you got me."

But the prince only looked at him with stony blue eyes, and Merlin watched his impassive face for a moment before his smile faded. "Arthur?"

The warlock began to struggle, but the guards held him tightly by the shoulders.

"_Tospringe,_" Merlin incanted, and his eyes glowed gold, ready to pull his hands apart and make a run for it.

But nothing happened.

"_Tospringe_!" the warlock incanted again, but still his eyes shimmered to no avail.

Panic began to kick in, panic and worry. He'd seen this. He'd been through this before. His magic was failing him, like it did in The Mine, like it did in his nightmares.

And it seemed like this nightmare was just beginning.

Arthur quickly motioned for the guards to follow, dragging the shocked warlock behind them. More scarlet clad soldiers opened great wooden doors, and they entered what must be the throne room of Camelot.

Stained glass windows decorated one side of the room, but other than their rich shimmer, the room was colorless and bare. Bare except for a throne in the middle of the hall, on which sat a waiting Uther Pendragon.

Knights and nobles stood at the edges of the room, behind the columns at the sides, leaving a wide space for the small procession. Arthur walked stiffly forward and stood behind his father, watching as the guards forced the warlock to his knees before the king. The cold stone bit into Merlin's trousers, and rough hands kept him in a crouching position, barely capable of looking up at Uther.

Suddenly the door opened again, two guards pulling in Gwen. They forced her to her knees beside Merlin, and the warlock cast a reassuring look—but the princess wouldn't have it.

"What is the meaning of this Uther?" she hissed, her lavender dress pooling on the floor. "What do you think you are doing?"

But the king of Camelot paid her no heed, instead stood and walked towards Merlin. He reached out and grabbed the sorcerer's chin, pulling it up so that the warlock's biting blue eyes met his own. After a moment of studying the boy, Uther let him go and smacked him across the face.

The sound rang through the hall, dead silence following. Merlin shook his head, and beside him, Gwen struggled. A small trail of blood spilled down the warlock's pale cheek, the ring that Uther was wearing having cut his skin.

"When I heard the rumor that in Glendale there was a sorcerer with the power to challenge my influence on the kingdoms, my heart went cold. Rumors of this sorcerer swept the lands, and when I finally saw you, I feared you. This raven-haired man who held the power of the heavens in his palm—a son of the Old Religion, a force I've spent my whole life fighting against. But now I realize my fears were ill placed. Now I see that the sorcerer—the _warlock-is_ just a boy. Now as I have you before me, kneeling in chains, I wonder how it could have been so….easy."

Merlin looked up at the king, face calm. "Be careful, Uther. Don't do this. You go any further and you'll find that you condemn the kingdoms to war, death, and blood. Pull back now before the armies set the world on fire."

The king laughed, and the sound echoed through the halls. "You still don't get it, do you, sorcerer? You still don't understand?"

In front of him Merlin shifted, stiffening as the king began to circle him, languidly, a smile on his face.

"It was so easy—too easy. When I heard the rumors, I was sure to write a letter to the king of Glendale. Ask for audience, for a truce. Though hesitant at first, he accepted in the end. But when I arrived, I knew I couldn't kill you then. Not when my armies were left without a leader in Camelot, and we were in the heart of the enemy's power. So I brought my son and my ward, two who neared you and the princess in age. I watched them befriend you… I watched you fall in love with them."

_"I won't tell anyone. Trust me."_

_Trust me. _

Merlin closed his eyes. His heart beat slower, and as he opened them, time slowed. He could see the dust specs dancing in the air, stained from the colored glass windows. Uther's leering face, Arthur standing cold behind the throne. And Morgana, standing at the very back of the room, in shadow, her face expressionless as he bled on his knees before her.

The king bent forward, whispering in the warlock's ear. "How could you possibly think that my ward could fall in love with a sorcerer like you?"

Merlin looked up at the king and shook his head. "Be careful," he murmured.

"I have you chained—magic bound-on the floor of my throne room, helpless to anything I choose to do. What threats have I to worry of?"

"You're a fool, Uther Pendragon," the warlock said softly, his voice rising in the silent hall, echoing in the open spaces. "Killing me won't stop magic. The dragons still live; the Old Religion grows in thousands of souls in the Seven Kingdoms. The old ways are not dead. Killing me is like knocking away a stone that will lead to an avalanche—those with magic will not stay quiet for long because there is magic all around you. It's everywhere, from the forests, to the cities, even here there is magic at the heart of Camelot—you are only too blind to see it. "

Murmuring filled the room, and Merlin watched Morgana's face as she stiffened near the column. He only shook his head and continued, "In your reign, or in your son's, the Triple Goddess will give us the strength to fight back. And when she does…oh god help you. I pity you and the fate you are sure to have. You have hurt so many, caused so much pain. Your due will come soon."

"Those with magic will not rise up, not without their prophesied leader," the king smiled. "Besides, let's not talk about my fate, when we can talk about yours."

Silence fell, and everyone looked at the king. He waited for a moment, taking pleasure in looking at the warlock as he spoke with certain authority—seeing the color drain from his face.

"Merlin, son of Hunith, you have been tried and found guilty of sorcery. In accordance to the laws of Camelot, you are sentenced to death by fire come morning. Take him away."

The guards wrenched the frozen warlock to his feet, dragging him roughly towards the doors.

"Arthur, please! Please don't do this. ARTHUR, DO SOMETHING!" Gwenivere screamed, trying desperately to pull away from her captors. But the prince remained motionless, staring off into space, avoiding Merlin and Gwen's eyes.

"Silence her," Uther orderered, the knights holding her smacking her across the face.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Merlin roared, eyes burning gold. The citadel shook, dust spilling from the ceiling. But the chains did their job, and the rage of the warlock was bound, impossible to control—exhausting to call upon. He fell limp in the arms of his captors, and they pulled him out towards the opening doors, boots dragging on the floor.

"MERLIN!" the princess shouted, freeing herself from the knights in the commotion and running towards him. He looked up just as she approached him, straightening himself as her arms came around him in a tight embrace.

But the guards had her all too soon, pulling her away even as she reached for him.

"It's going to be okay, "he shouted as they shoved him towards the doors, leading him into the empty halls. "Get back to Glendale and tell them what's happened. Everything is going to be okay, princess-"

They could hear his desperate shouts even when the doors slammed shut, fading away slowly and leaving the throne room in silence.

Gwen looked to where her friend had disappeared, quiet, immobile. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps. Chest rising, gown torn. Her captors pushed her back towards their monarch, forcing her to bow to him once again.

"Because you are of royal blood, I will allow you safe passage from my kingdom. My knights will drop you off at the border and from there, you will be free to return to your father's castle _unaccompanied."_

But Gwenivere only straightened her back, piercing brown eyes filled with rage, and fury. Voice strong and ringing.

"Uther Pendragon, you will rue this day and all the destruction it brings. As heir to the throne of Glendale and future queen, I end this new peace between our two nations. From this moment henceforth, we are at war."

**Did you see it coming, did ya, did ya, did ya? I know a lot of you sensed something was wrong, but still. DID YOU EXPECT IT!? **

**You guys ok? Or are those pitchforks I see...**

**...hmmm...I think I'm going to go, ummm, take a walk? **

**Tell me what you think? It's important, you could say it decides Merlin's fate...**

**(no, you're not hearing an evil cackle)**

**I LOVE YOU ALL. DON'T KILL ME.**


	13. Drunken Flames

**Didn't mean to post but I saw we had new readers, and I didn't want them to wait! Hope you like it (thought of the reveal while writing parts of this so I hope it worked out well!)**

_**One More Night: Maroon 5**_

Merlin looked up to where his arms were chained. It was dark in the cell, the only light trickling from a vent at the top of the room—the sunlight taunting him, sneering at his bound form. So strange to be chained again, so strange that he should be feeling like this so soon. His breath came slowly, eyes unseeing as they looked to the barred doors to freedom. He had already tried breaking through the chains, failing. Now he hung exhausted, his arms groaning. Merlin was still and silent, the clinking of his chains that only sound in Camelot's ancient dungeons.

But inside, feelings roiled, bubbling up within him, growing with each minute that crept by. Shock still stabbed him with every breath, and disbelief still clouded his vision.

_How could I have been so stupid?_

How could he have fallen for the trap? He hadn't noticed anything, everything had felt real. Perhaps that's why he should have known—everything had been too good to be true.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. They rang on the cold stone, heavy and quick. Four guards and Uther Pendragon appeared at the other side of the bars, with them a familiar face.

Gaelic.

The warlock hissed, stiffening in his chains and straightening his back.

"Not so tough now, are you, sorcerer? Bound and waiting for death?" his former captor sneered.

"Funny – your friend said something like that before I destroyed The Mine. These chains won't hold me forever, and when I'm free, there won't be a dragon to protect you."

Gaelic laughed nervously and Merlin smirked as he sidestepped behind the king.

Uther nodded at the guards, and they approached the warlock. Merlin struggled as they tore his shirt from his lean body, the cold air biting his bare flesh.

The king circled the bound man, taking in the long whip marks that marred the pale skin.

"Your work, Gaelic?"

"Yes, my lord."

He was quiet, circling to stand across from the warlock, eyes studying Merlin's face. Motioning, more guards walked in, rolling in hot coals whose heat Merlin could feel from where he stood.

"I wanted to torture you—make you suffer. But I decided against it," Uther said softly. "But I want to make an example of you, sorcerer, to prove that even the most powerful of your kind is weak under our hands. So that no one will dare challenge me."

A guard walked over, a long iron brand in his hand. Merlin stiffened as he flinched back, but escaping was impossible with the chains locked so tight. He struggled as the soldier approached him, the iron a bright red, smoke rising from its burning surface. It hissed as it embraced the cool air of the dungeon. Merlin couldn't take his eyes from it.

"This mark brands you as a sorcerer. Superstition says the symbol traps the demon within you so it doesn't spread. If I were you, I would remain still—try to relax."

Without warning, the guard wrapped an arm around Merlin's spine—keeping him from moving—and pushed the brand into the skin below the warlock's right shoulder.

He couldn't help it. Merlin's screams tore through the air, the king watching with satisfaction as the iron tore away flesh. Rough hands held him tight and kept him immobile, but his legs twitched below him as his body wracked with pain.

It was excruciating, the brand pressing into his pale skin. He could feel his flesh peeling and hardening, blood begging to fall but held back by the terrible heat. Spots dotted his vision as the pain took control. Setting his body aflame, Merlin bit his lip to keep from screaming more than he already had, but as the guard shoved it deeper, cries ripped out of his body. Breathing was difficult. Thinking was difficult. It was just pain, where he began and it ended indiscernible.

His screams went ragged.

Down the corridor, seated on the stairs of the dungeon, a blonde haired man closed his eyes. His hands made fists, his jaw clenched, something within him tearing.

"Arthur?"

The prince turned to see Morgana standing at the top of the stairs, one hand bracing her lean figure against the stone wall. Her face was streaked with tears, eyes red, lips bitten.

"Morgana."

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know."

Another scream echoed from down below and Morgana let out a strangled sob, her whole body shaking.

"Go to your room, Morgana. You shouldn't be here."

"How can you just sit here and listen to him scream?"

Arthur turned away from her, looking down at his clenched fists. "Go to your room."

The king's ward shook her head, ebony locks in disarray. She disappeared down the hall and the heir of Camelot buried his face in his hands as the screams grew louder below.

In the cell, Uther watched his prisoner with satisfaction. The boy held to consciousness by a thread, body limp in his chains. The mark that branded his skin was a brilliant red, slowing turning white as it began to jut out from the smoothness of his torso. His chest rose and fell with each shallow gasp. Soft moans could still be heard from his opened mouth, eyes looking forward, glazed in pain and unseeing.

The guards left the room, leaving the king alone with the warlock. Merlin's breaths the only sound between them as they each looked at the other. Uther felt a small shiver trickle down his spine, as the sorcerer, chained and suffering before him, jaw tight and eyes clouded with pain, still managed to seem menacing in his silent rage. His abilities roiled beneath his pale skin, and for a moment, the Pendragon realized he wasn't just dealing with a boy, but a creature of the Old Religion.

But he dismissed the feeling, walking out of the room and leaving the warlock to the darkness.

Finally alone, Merlin let out the strangled sob he'd been holding. It came out of him in a quick gasp and salty tears spilled from his blue eyes. The pain was unbearable. Though the iron had left his chest, the warlock could still feel his flesh burning and pulling apart. Looking down made it no better. The burn was dark and ugly—it made his stomach turn.

He remembered the last time he had received a burn similar to this—the night of the masquerade. The pain of it had brought him to his knees. But this time there was no Gwen stroking his face, or Gwaine holding his hand, or Gaius rushing to make the pain go away. Here the agony remained, and even as he begged his mind to let go of consciousness, it clung onto him—keeping him away from blissful unawareness.

The sound of his cell door unlocking pulled his attention away from the pain, but seeing the face there only brought on a different kind of hurt.

And rage.

"What are you doing here? Come to watch the show? I'm afraid you're a little late," Merlin spat at Arthur, angry that even while he spoke, his voice choked with the pain.

The prince only studied him, eyes running over the warlock's torn trousers, the blood dripping from his wrists where the chains had cut into his skin, his mutilated lower shoulder, his tear stained face. Blue eyes glanced at the links of iron that kept Merlin helpless, a small voice wondering how simple a thing could stay such raw power—a power he had grown used to over the past month.

"Gwenivere is safe," Arthur finally said. "The knights are taking her to Glendale's border now."

Merlin looked up at the window above him. Where sunlight once danced, the darkness of night remained—he hadn't even realized the passing of time. He stiffened when the prince approached him, something clenched tightly in his palm.

Arthur opened his fingers to reveal a necklace Gwen always wore—a ring casted in simple iron. Her father had made it for her when she was a little girl and the princess never took it off.

"She asked that I give this to you," the blonde murmured softly, reaching over and pulling the worn thread chain over the warlock's head. It fell just above his clavicle, the weight of it strangely comforting.

"Thank you," Merlin replied softly, looking at Arthur's expressionless face.

As the prince turned to leave, he stopped at the voice behind him.

"Why? Why did you do this, Arthur?"

The prince turned to see Merlin's desperate face, so pale, so broken. Not the same boy that Arthur had known in the morning.

"You have magic," he replied softly.

"I was born with it," Merlin said with a choked cry, his body shaking with sorrow and rage.

"Merlin—"

"WHAT WRONG HAVE I HAVE DONE YOU?" Merlin struggled against his chains, a small cry escaping his lips as the movement pulled at the wound in his shoulder. "LOOK AT ME," the warlock begged, rage barely contained in his words when the prince turned from him.

Arthur looked reluctantly at the warlock, commanding his heart to stay strong. But it was difficult with the tears spilling from the pale man's eyes, the blood streaming down his bare chest where he had been rudely thrown and cut, feet scuffling against the rough stone, bare footed, trying to stand, but failing.

"What wrong have I have done you to deserve this?" Merlin asked, voice ragged and laced with pain. "What wrong have I done to deserve this treatment, this torture? What have I done that warrants my imprisonment, my betrayal, and my blood? Have I not saved your life? Have I not been loyal? What wrong have I done other than been born with this ability I have no strength to control? IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT I'M A MONSTER. I tried so hard, so hard to redeem myself in your eyes. But still you look upon me with cold indifference, like we were not friends, like I am one of the many sorcerers your father has imprisoned in these dungeons—and I am soon to be one of many your father executes. So before I burn on the pyre they build in Camelot's vast courtyard, tell me. Just tell me what I have done to force your hand, and was the friendship I had come to value a lie—the final proof of my naivety?"

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes finally revealing the pain at the core of his being. "I arrived in Glendale with a single purpose—the gain your trust. It was easy, and soon you, too, won mine. But I am the prince of Camelot, and you are a sorcerer. We don't write our destinies, and we can't change them. And though it pains me, I know that this is what's best. Your power could bring my kingdom to its knees, and my duty is to my people, not my heart. I am sorry, Merlin. But magic corrupts, and it is better you die innocent than die twisted, heart blackened with the dark power of the Old Religion. I am truly sorry, but this is the way it has to be."

The prince turned around, ignoring the desperate cries as he locked the cell door and walked from the dungeons. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he angrily brushed away a tear and disappeared into his quarters.

* * *

Morgana braced herself as she prepared to enter the dungeons. She had slipped past the guards with ease—she was the king's ward after all. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the steps and into the silent dungeon.

It was dark, so dark. And cold, terribly cold. He was in the last cell, at the end—the darkest and coldest corner. She let out a quick intake of breath as she looked at him, a small tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

He wore only trousers, hanging from the ceiling, wrists rubbed red and raw. Small shuddering breaths the only proof that he still lived. Merlin's eyes were closed tight. Every once and a while his body would involuntarily shiver as the cold whispered tendrils across his bare skin.

The crimson blood was the only color in the dark cell. There was so much of it, it puddled at his feet, and fell in lines across his chest from where the chains must have sliced his wrists as he struggled against the brand that now marred his already scarred body. Morgana unlocked the door as quietly as she could—having stolen the key from Arthur before he slept. She set the bucket of warm water as softly as she could on the stone floor, bending down and wetting a soft cloth.

"Don't touch me."

Morgana froze, cloth inches away from his skin. The water dripped from it, each droplet a strike of lightening in the unbearable silence.

She looked up to see his cobalt eyes open, expression unfathomable. Morgana swallowed, talking hurriedly. "Let me just clean the wounds, keep them from infection…"

"I'm going to die in a matter of hours, so it doesn't matter, does it?" His voice was cold as ice, every word a sharp knife.

"Merlin—"

"I gave you the key to my fate. I entrusted it to you, and nobody else. When I told you, a little voice in my head told me to stop. That I shouldn't do this, shouldn't get involved. But your lips were velvet and your kisses red wine, smooth, rich, and intoxicating—taking away my sanity and replacing it with stupidity. I was a fool, drunk on you, and now I bleed from polished chains as a punishment for my love."

"Believe me, Merlin, please. I didn't want this…"

"THAN WHY AM I IN A DUNGEON?" his voice echoed loud in the silent space, Morgana shrinking back. "Why am I hung from the roof in utter agony, awaiting death? Why? I can understand Arthur—he hates magic. He sees me as the enemy. But you, you're just like me. You have magic. You're as much a monster as I am."

"I had no choice…Uther, Arthur, they are the only family I have. Uther made me say, I came to Glendale first with every intention of betrayal. But I fell in love with you, but by that time I was in too deep. I couldn't do anything but tell them—"

"There's always another choice. There is always another way."

"Merlin, stop," Morgana pleaded. "Please listen to me. In my nightmares I saw Camelot burning. I saw dragons in scarlet stained armor, up on the battlements, wings outstretched. I could hear people screaming, and two great armies clashed in the vast fields before the citadel—fire and blood as far as the naked eyes could see. And I saw you there, in black and silver armor, seated upon a dragon whose very eyes were as golden as yours. In my nightmare I knew it was your war. This is what future lay ahead, one of death, blood, and despair, and you were right in the middle. The dreams, I had them again and again, and when I discovered I had magic I only knew that they would come to pass. So I had to make the choice—let things be, and watch the world burn because of my feelings for you. Or I could watch you die and the destiny fail."

Merlin shook his head. "You had no right—"

"Didn't I? I'm a seer, Merlin. Not only that, but Edwin told me I'm one of the most powerful sorceresses he's ever met, my power almost equaling yours. I have as much a part to play in the future of these kingdoms as you, and though it pains me, I know I have no choice. To lose you will be losing warmth, but I'd prefer a world of ice to a world of fire. Your death now, it will save thousands of lives."

"Morgana, destiny is not a fickle thing. If I die tomorrow, than that future will still come to pass, one way or another."

"Maybe, but I can't risk those lives. "

The two were silent, and Morgana walked tentavily towards him, gently cleaning the brand and the cuts on him. He shuddered under her fingertips, pain keeping him speechless. After seemingly eternities of silence, Morgana pulled back, the cloth in her hand stained ruby.

"Tomorrow, when I'm tied to the pyre, promise me you'll be there. So that as I burn, I can see the look in your eyes and know if the love between us was real or not."

"Merlin—"

"Morgana, I don't want to die."

The king's ward covered her mouth as an involuntary sob was ripped from her, tears flowing freely down her face.

"And I don't want you to die."

"Then don't let me."

"Merlin—"

"It doesn't have to be like this, we can find another way."

"There is no other way."

* * *

"It's time."

Merlin looked up to see Arthur standing in the cell, six guards flanking him. He hadn't slept all night, each minute seemingly a thousand years, but still the warlock wished for the bitter cold hell to the knowledge that he would be ashes before noon.

"Please… Arthur…" the warlock said softly, lips cracked and body raked with hunger and thirst.

But the prince said nothing and turned to walk from the cell as the knights behind him unhooked the man from the roof, pushing him to his knees. They gave him a worn white shirt to cover his bare flesh, carefully ripped so that the brand on the warlock's chest could be seen.

Merlin struggled, desperately calling on his magic as they pushed him down the hall and towards the entrance to the courtyard. But the chains did their job and soon the warlock hung limp in their arms as they pulled him into the sun.

Silence.

It was the first thing Merlin noticed. In all his nightmares, when he was pulled into the courtyard where he was sure to die, the onlookers jeered and taunted him. But here, in reality, everyone was silent. Somehow that made it all the more terrifying. As his eyes accustomed to the brightness, he could see the mob of people in the square. They were parted, making the path to the tall pyre clear. Knights in scarlet stood before it, and up on the terrace of the citadel stood Uther and Arthur Pendragon.

Morgana wasn't there.

The scuffling of his feet on the white stone was loud in the quiet courtyard, a light breeze brushing the clothes of the onlookers. Their faces were stony and cold, no cruelty, but also no sympathy on the faces that Merlin didn't recognize.

The light shined down from the clear blue sky, and the birds sang happy tunes on their perches on the castle walls. Looking out onto it, he longed for clouds to roll over the sky and for the sunlit courtyard to turn dark because in all the great novels, the world cries when someone is about to die. And here he was on the doorstep of death, and the skies laughed, taunting him.

But still he moved closer to the pyre, and in his heart he began to lose hope. He thought that Gwen would get here on time, that Gwaine would ride in now and bear him away to safety.

No one was coming.

Fear gripped him tightly, and he couldn't help but want to scream and sob as his feet bore him unwillingly to the tall pile of wood. He'd thought of death, thought of death many times when he was locked away in the Mine. But he'd always felt like his death would be something more heroic, and would come at a later hour—he never thought he was fated to die by fire, the betrayal of the woman he loved and the man he considered his greatest friend tying him to the pyre.

Merlin was afraid.

The guards hoisted him up, binding him tightly to a long wooden stake. Wood and kindling cracked under his bare feet, so loud in the silence.

Horns suddenly sounded up high, and drums slowly began to beat. Slow and loud, Merlin's heart tightening in his chest.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Uther's voice began to ring in the courtyard, loud and clear.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all. This man, Merlin son of Hunith, is judged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic, and pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery there is but one sentence that I can pass."

The king raised his hand and the drums began to beat faster, the crowds still silent. Merlin watched with desperate eyes as a knight in a scarlet cloak lit a torch with flame, walking towards the pyre slowly.

Looking up, the warlock met Arthur's eyes. He was happy to see pain there, pain and uncertainty. Blue eyes locked together, and Merlin knew that the fear was plain in his own. He longed for Morgana to be there so he could see her face, one last time.

Lifting up the torch, the knight looked at the warlock as he let the flames touch the wood.

Merlin closed his eyes.

**Whatcha think? TELL ME! Should I update the next chapter or is nobody interested?**


	14. Chessboard Pieces

**Hello everyone! Here is the chapter. It's nice and long for your wait, but probably the worst I've written. I guess you could say it's kinda like the "setting the stage" chapter, if you know what I mean! **

**_We Might as Well be Strangers: Keane_**

_The king raised his hand and the drums began to beat faster, the crowds still silent. Merlin watched with desperate eyes as a knight in a scarlet cloak lit a torch with flame, walking slowly towards the pyre._

_Looking up, the warlock met Arthur's eyes. He was happy to see pain there, pain and uncertainty. Blue eyes locked together, and Merlin knew that the fear was plain in his own. He longed for Morgana to be there so he could see her face, one last time._

_Lifting up the torch, the knight watched the warlock as he let the flames touch the wood._

_Merlin closed his eyes._

He could feel the flames coming closer, feel the heat rising like the smoke that choked him. But still he screwed his eyes shut as the heat became uncomfortable, and then unbearable. Keeping himself from choking out, Merlin focused on scattering thoughts.

_"Gwenivere Leodogrance, but most people call me Gwen. It's a pleasure meeting you, Merlin."_

_"Likewise."_

_"I didn't catch your name."_

_"Merlin, my lady."_

_"Thank you, Merlin."_

_She laughed out loud as he pulled her up and hoisted her in the air with the other dancers, her weight forgotten at the sight of her bright-eyed smile._

_"A frog," Gwaine replied with a skilled poker face, looking the warlock up and down he elaborated further. "A frog whose just been stepped on."_

_The__ p__rince gasped, taking a moment to pull himself together before lunging at his friend, the two tackling each other in the lake._

_Suddenly they were kissing. He didn't know if he had kissed her, or if she'd kissed him, all he knew was the feel of her lips pressed against his._

_"Merlin, you can trust me."_

Echoing voices in his head, as clear and vivid as the smoke that wafted around his skin, as the flames licking towards him.

_Merlin, you can trust me._

_Oh, how I wish I could_, he thought softly. He smiled in the pile of burning wood as he thought of her, soft black hair, ruby red smile, and passionate gaze. Her face was the only one he memorized down to every detail, as though she was one of the poems Phillip recited when he was in a good mood. But now as he thought of her laughter, he could hear only the crackle of the flames and the wood beneath his feet. The gown she wore to the masquerade was engulfed in fire, and Merlin craned his head up towards the sky to try and keep the rest of her memories from burning away.

"_Tospringe_."

Merlin vaguely felt the chains on his wrists unlock as the gluttonous fire licked closer. Someone pulled him off the stake, shoving him off the pyre just as it was engulfed in flames. The courtyard was a wreck, the once silent onlookers now screaming and running away in terror from the scene.

Heavy on his feet, the warlock felt someone help him up and allow him to lean on them as they pulled him down a narrow street. He could hear the guards racing after them, but was too weak to do anything to deter their pursuit. His mind was still hazy from the smoke, and every now and again, he would double over coughing. Merlin looked upon the world like it was a dream, blurred at the edges, his senses dulled for still the only thing he smelt was the flames. Suddenly, he spotted a horse laden with goods. His rescuer lifted him up onto its back and jumped up in front of him, securing the warlock's hand around their waist.

"_Ocius_," a familiar voice muttered and the horse bolted forward, leaving the scarlet clad knights behind.

They raced down the cobblestone street, people diving to the side to avoid the horse's sharp hooves. The flags that once welcomed Gwen and Merlin to Camelot still waved in the breeze, their merry colors a harsh contrast to the screams that echoed down the city's streets.

"_Onstyrian, onbregdan_!" she screamed. The doors to the gate burst open, splinters showering over them as they raced past the guards that attempted to stand in their way.

Arrows whizzed past their ears, missing them by bare margins. But their luck couldn't last. The cloaked lady in front of him cried out in pain as an arrow buried into her shoulder, Merlin's steadying hand the only thing keeping her on the horse.

They couldn't stop.

Merlin didn't look back as they pulled past the long wheat fields and into the dark forest, the horse twisting the turning down the narrow spaces between the trees. Finally, the warlock risked a glance back at the knights following them, finding their numbers lessened. A branch cut his cheek as he put his hand up, gathering the little reserves of strength he had left.

"_Forbearnen."_

The trees behind them burst into flame, the pursuing horses prancing and bucking in terror. Merlin attempted to blink his eyes, the world was so fuzzy. But unconsciousness was too tempting, and leaning his head on the back of his rescuer. The warlock closed his eyes and the world turned black.

* * *

Merlin woke to a throbbing head ache and an incredibly dry throat. His eyes blinked slowly as he attempted to open them, every fiber of his being sore and exhausted. Eventually the cobalt irises focused, the warlock taking in the dark canopy over his head, small openings revealing the night sky above.

There were no stars.

He groaned and attempted to get up before a hand kept him down.

"Don't get up now, you're too weak. You've been out for two days."

The warlock didn't pay attention to the warning, violently jerking away from the soothing voice.

"Morgana."

Eyes a dark jade, the king's ward looked at him with an uncertain expression. She looked a mess. Ebony hair was tangled and fell roughly around her shoulders, soot bathing her skin, face pale. Wrapped up in a black cloak, she shifted under his gaze.

Merlin shook his head, rage and happiness roiling like drunken serpents in his gut. "What are you doing, Morgana?"

"Saving your life."

"After you condemned it?"

She looked away, guilt lining her features. Her voice came out in a soft whisper, and Merlin had to strain to hear her words. "I….I couldn't watch you die. After I left your cell that night, I lay in bed for hours. I thought I betrayed you for my family—Uther and Arthur. But when I thought of their faces to comfort me, I saw Gwen…and you. I realized that you are as much a part of my family now as Arthur and Uther, so I had to make a choice…I chose you. You don't know how much I regret everything I've done. "

Merlin looked down at his blackened hands, an involuntary shudder wracking his body as he remembered the heat of the flames as they had reached their arms out to burn him, to consume him alive.

"You know I can't trust you, not after what you've done."

"I know." A silver tear ran down her pale skin, leaving a trail of cleanliness in its wake. "And I know I can't ask you to forgive me, but please, Merlin. Believe me when I say I'll never sleep again for my guilt. I told Uther because I've been raised to think that duty comes first, not the heart. And I thought it was my duty to betray you, my promise to the man who has been my guardian and father. I now know how wrong I was, I know no apology is strong enough, and I know that the trust between us is broken—just know that I mourn it and will do my utmost to grow in your eyes once again. Even if it takes the rest of my days."

The warlock nodded, swallowing loudly as he took in her broken form. There was a war raging within him, a war between what he had been put through and what he wished with all his heart to be true.

"Thank you," he said softly after the silence became unbearable.

Morgana nodded, wincing slightly. Merlin's eyes widened and he moved towards her. Gently, he pulled off the cloak that hung from her shoulders, revealing the shaft of an arrow buried in her shoulder.

"I couldn't pull it out," she replied to his worried and questioning look.

Merlin nodded, reaching over and grabbing the water pouch nearby. He tore the bottom of his white shirt, setting the cloth on his lap. Gingerly, he put a hand on the wooden shaft. Morgana flinched at the touch, but closed her eyes and grit her teeth.

Her scream was short and ragged when Merlin pulled out the arrow as quick as he could, swiftly dousing the wound in water and pressing the makeshift bandages tightly on it.

"_Ic haele pina browunga_," he muttered, eyes glowing gold. Morgana sighed in relief as the pain ceased, the skin knitting back together.

Merlin gasped, suddenly dizzy. He swayed slightly in his kneeling position, Morgana helping him lie down. After a minute or two to control the pain, the warlock was overwhelmed with nausea. He moved up and vomited to the side, coughing raggedly. Her warm hand rubbed circles in his back as he shuddered, a pounding in his temple.

"You shouldn't have used magic, you're still too weak," she reprimanded, handing him the water pouch to clean his mouth.

"Since when did you become so knowledgeable about sorcery?" he snapped, wiping his lips and lying back down, hands over his eyes.

"From spending time with you—and I researched spells I'd need in the getaway last night. "

"That was quick."

"I'm a fast learner."

The two were quiet, and Merlin shivered in the darkness, wind blowing his thin, torn shirt. Morgana didn't miss the quiver, and moved next to him, wrapping them both in her cloak.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to pull away from her.

"We can't move till morning or we'll get lost, and seeing as you're so weak already, catching a fever in the cold won't do the both of us any good. Lighting a fire would be suicide with the knights on our tail, so you'll just have to deal with me here."

Merlin grunted, but remained stiff as she curled up at his side. But soon her even breaths and comforting warmth coaxed him to relax, and for a moment, he forgot all that had happened and knew only that this was Morgana pressed up against him. His eyes drooped and he let his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer against him to ward off the cold.

Falling asleep was far easier than it should have been under the circumstances.

* * *

A soft hand shaking his shoulder woke him the following morning.

"Merlin, we need to go."

The warlock stretched, moaning softly—shoulder burning. Opening his eyes, he watched Morgana finish securing the horse's saddle. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the canopy, illuminating the endless greens and browns of the forest around them.

"A hard day's ride and we should reach Glendale's border by nightfall," she told him, pulling out some dried fruits and handing them to the warlock.

Their sweetness made him even hungrier.

They mounted the horse quickly, and Morgana pushed it forward, a map in her hand. And so they traveled in silence, nerves on end, listening for the sound of the knights that were sure to be on their trail. Both sorcerers were weak, and so couldn't use magic to ease their journey.

Sometime near the evening, darkness drawing closer, they heard it.

The sound of hooves.

Morgana pushed Merlin off the horse, the warlock crashing with a painful thud. Using the knife she had hidden in her boot, the sorceress cut the strap securing the horses saddle, pulling it down quickly. She slapped the horses rear, sending it running into the dark trees, lifting the saddle into the bush that Merlin was hiding in—diving in next to him just as they could hear the snorts of other steeds.

So quiet, Morgana was painfully aware of how loud their breaths were, the steady snapping of branches warning the two fugitives of someone drawing near.

Under the leaves of the bush, they watched in horror as several horses stopped in front of them—how many they couldn't tell.

A thud.

Someone had dismounted, their black leather boots inches away from them.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"There is no one here, Gwaine."

"I could have sworn I heard something."

Merlin cried out and leapt from the bush, smiling. "Gwaine!"

"Merlin!" the knight recovered from the startling and ran over to embrace the warlock tightly. "We heard rumors that the execution didn't go according to Uther's plan, but we couldn't be sure. I rode out to Camelot to see if they were true—and I'm happy now to know that they were. My only question is how you managed it, Gwen told us—"

"I had some help," the warlock said softly. Gwaine looked at him inquiringly, and Merlin turned, indicating with a hand.

Morgana got up hesitantly, making herself known to the seven knights of Glendale.

"_You_," Gwaine hissed, pulling out his sword and aiming it at her throat.

"Gwaine, don't—"

"Why, Merlin? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit her throat where she stands."

"She saved my life…"

"SHE'S THE REASON YOUR LIFE WAS ENDANGERED IN THE FIRST PLACE."

Merlin had difficulty swallowing. "Nonetheless, Morgana pulled me off that pyre and took me away from Camelot. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead."

The knight growled, but reluctantly put down his sword, gaze still cold and biting. "If you give me any reason to doubt you, I will kill you without trial, is that understood?"

Morgana nodded, wide-eyed.

Gwaine turned back to his friend, looking him over. "You look terrible."

"That tends to happen when you nearly die and then become a fugitive in a dark forest."

"It must hurt, being so ugly."

"I thought you were happy to see me?"

"Only I can't see you past all that dirt."

"Touché."

The two grinned at each other, and Gwaine put a gentle hand around his friend's shoulder. But the joy soon faded and was replaced with a look of seriousness that did not happen often on the knight's face.

"We must hurry and get you home. Preparations of war have already started—and we're going to need all the help we can get."

* * *

"Morgana, daughter of Gorlois, you know why you have brought before this court."

"Yes, my lord."

"You confess guilty to betraying the Princess Gwenivere and Merlin, resulting nearly in the latter's death?"

"Yes, my lord."

The king sighed, looking down at the kneeling ward of his enemy. She still wore the torn dress that she had arrived in, hair pulled into a messy braid before the court.

"You have committed treason, and under the laws of Glendale you should be sentenced to death. However, my daughter has reminded me that it is you who saved Merlin and brought him here. Do you deny that?"

"No, my lord."

Glendale's king let out another sigh, rubbing his temple. The members of the court around them were silent, unsure of how to perceive the case before them. Gwen stood behind him, Merlin next to her, shoulder bandaged and cuts stitched. The king turned back to his daughter, walking slowly towards her. Gwen was stiff, conflicting feelings in her gut as she looked down upon the woman who had been her friend.

"The choice is yours," Thomas told his daughter softly.

"But, Father—"

"She was your friend and she betrayed you, then somehow she saved your friend. Her fate is in your hands. I cannot take it into mine."

The princess took a deep breath, nodding at her father and squaring her shoulders. She bore the air of authority as she walked towards the kneeling woman, her crimson dress trailing behind her. Looking down at Morgana, her heart began to beat faster.

Everyone was quiet, the thick silence as heavy as a shirt of mail. Then Gwen's voice filled the chamber, reverberating off the marble walls like those of the kings' of old.

"Morgana, you were my friend. But you decieved me, and you deceived the man you claimed to have loved."

The sorceress sucked in a breath, not meeting Gwen's eyes. Turning her head towards the sun that filtered in through the windows, Gwen's palm fisted her dress.

"Morgana, daughter of Gorlois, by the power vested in me, I choose _not_ to carry out the death penalty."

Morgana looked up at her in shock, eyes wide.

"Though you betrayed me, you brought Merlin home. And now he is here, safe, something he wouldn't be had you not done this. He is safe, and that is all that matters. You will stay in the guest chambers that were once yours, and there you will stay. However, you will be watched, and your sentence can be changed. Should you show any signs of treachery...I will not be so merciful."

"Thank you, my lady," Morgana said with a quavering voice, heart beating quickly in her chest.

Gwen smiled. She gently extended a hand which the other girl gratefully took. "We were once friends, Morgana. And we can be again. Just prove to me that you are a sorceress, and not a Pendragon."

"I will not let you down, never again. I promise."

"Then go to physician and let him tend to your wounds."

Morgana brushed a strand of hair from her face, a small smile on her face, a tear sliding down her face. "Thank you, Gwenivere, for your forgiveness."

The princess looked at Merlin, who stood there, silent, impassive. She turned back at Morgana, "It is not only my forgiveness that you must earn."

Knights escorted the sorceress from the room, and the common nobles muttered between themselves as they slowly left the room.

Leaving behind the ministers of war.

Merlin went to join the civilians before the king's voice stopped him.

"No, Merlin. Your place is here."

The warlock turned to Gwen, who gave him a reassuring look, beckoning him towards the table the servants had lifted in. They stretched out large maps, detailed with the locations of mountains, forest, lakes, and valleys. Small pieces representing the kingdoms were placed on the worn parchment, as though it was a playing board for a game that children play.

And it was a game. A game of war, and here there be the corpses of children who once played games that looked like this.

"We are vastly outnumbered," the king began. "All the other kingdoms will fight for Camelot, all except Cenred, and he's told me already that he has no interest in helping us. This has been planned from the start so all the armies will be mobilizing as we speak. There's no doubt that Uther will set the battle up on the vast plains of Camland. It's barely a day's ride away from here, which puts us at a disadvantage."

"We can't pull the battles somewhere else?" a man with a dark beard asked stiffly. "Draw them out to a place that puts us at the advantage?"

"No. Camland is the quickest way to Glendale, and reaching our citadel is their goal. Lot's kingdom is the nearest to the plain. His men are probably there already. Uther's and the others will join them soon, perhaps in a few days' time, I don't know. How long they have been preparing I'm not sure. We'll have to march for the plain in three days time if we are to stop them from getting any closer."

The king sighed, running a hand over his head. "We are vastly outnumbered," he repeated. "We barely stood a chance against Uther's army alone, but against the combined force of the other kingdoms—the war will be over before it's begun."

Silent, the onlookers looked at the map grimly. Merlin's eyes suddenly widened, and he turned to the king.

"If I may, my lord, I have a suggestion."

"Speak."

"We need allies. Why don't we call on the druids?"

"The druids? They are a peaceful people, they won't fight," a heavy-set general spoke, his voice deep.

"They will. This is the war that decides whether magic will be allowed to live on in the kingdoms. Right?" The room was quiet as he spoke, and as Merlin continued, confidence began to build within him in this hall of hardened men and women. "These armies fight under Uther's banner, and he fights against the Old Religion. The druids are a peaceful people, but if we lose, they will be hunted down and slaughtered. The outcome of these battles will write the future of those of us with magic. They will fight."

"Even if they would, the druids have no love for me. They won't answer my call for war," the king of Glendale said bitterly.

"But they will answer mine. In their tongue, I'm known as Emrys. I've spent some time with them. I saved some of their men from the Mine, and in return, they healed me. They know me. If I ask it, they will ride in my name, and so they will ride under your banner."

The king nodded in contemplation, looking up at the knights standing at the door. "Dispatch riders for Locksley Forests immediately. Tell them that Emrys calls them to war."

A knight nodded, opening the door and disappearing down the corridor.

For the rest of the afternoon, they spoke of mobilizing the troops, war tactics and supplies, and finally the king dismissed them after the sun had set. As the men left the room, Merlin turned with Gwen to leave, but the king's call stopped him once again.

"Merlin, stay."

The warlock walked back to the king, cringing at the sound of sharply closing doors behind him.

"I'm sorry, my lord, if I spoke out of turn—"

"No, you're right. Should the druids fight, they would be invaluable. With them we have a chance against Uther's hordes…but we still do have a problem."

"What, sire?"

"Like you said before, the druids will not fight for me, they will fight for you. And so I ask you now to take the job of General."

"Me? General?" Merlin replied, shocked. "My lord, I'm the wrong person. I know nothing of war—"

"Then it's time you learn. You are the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. Don't think I haven't been watching your progress since the first day you arrived here. I'm sorry, boy, but you've been born into this role. If the druids will fight for you then let them. They will be your soldiers, and they will fight under your name."

"My lord—"

"You said it before; this war decides the future of magic. Merlin, you are a son of the Old Religion, so it falls to you to lead your people."

Merlin nodded, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Thank you, my lord. This is indeed a great honor. I will not fail you."

"Good."

The warlock bowed low and walked from the room, running back up to Gaius's chambers where his guardian and friend were waiting.

"I've been named General," Merlin said in reply to their questioning looks, but they didn't look surprised.

"You deserve the role, "Gwen told him softly.

"I've never fought a war before-"

"Yes you have, my boy," Gauis interrupted, putting a hand on his ward's shoulder. "You've been fighting in a war for magic since you were born, the only difference is this time you will be wearing armor."

Merlin collapsed down on a wooden bench, putting his head in his hands. He was quiet. Finally, he spoke. "Even if I lead the druids into war, they won't be enough. We need all the help we can get, but we have nowhere left to turn."

"We do," Gaius replied.

The two young people looked up at him, uncertainty lining their features.

"Who?" the princess asked.

"The dragons."

Merlin laughed. "The _dragons_? You think the _dragons_ will help us? Last time I spoke to a dragon he told me he'd kill me if he was to see me again."

"But he didn't."

"I don't follow."

"Kilgarrah didn't kill you because he couldn't-you are a dragonlord, Merlin."

"Sorry, come again?"

"You know who the dragonlords are—you've learned of them in your studies."

"Yes, I know who they _were_, but the dragonlords are dead."

"You are the last."

Merlin stood up, anger rising to the surface. "I'm sorry. Since when did I become a dragonlord, and what makes you think that?"

"I didn't know until this afternoon." The physician walked to where a book lay open on a table nearby. "While you were at the war council, I got to thinking of what we could do to even the playing field. Then I remembered the dragons. I went to the library where a friend of mine keeps all the records—among them those of the dragonlords. During the Great Purge, they were hunted and slaughtered, all for one, Balinor. I helped him disappear along with the Great Dragon, and the next I heard from him was years later when a friend of his informed me of his death. As I looked at the records, I realized that Balinor had once lived in Cenred's kingdom, near Ealdor. When he escaped, he told me he would return home."

"So what?"

"Your magic. People are rarely just 'born' with magic; it's a trait that is passed down by blood. You've told me your mother has no magical ability, and that she raised you alone, your father having disappeared before you were born. It makes sense. Balinor must have run into Ealdor in his travels and met your mother, then continued when he realized it was too dangerous for him to stay with her."

"Fine. Let's say that there is a chance out of a million that I'm Balinor's son—then why couldn't I command the dragon when I spoke with him?"

"You didn't know-you couldn't have known how to call on to that bond you share with the dragons. And didn't that druid tell you that you are more akin to dragons than you are to humans?"

"That's because I'm a warlock, not a dragonlord—"

"What if you're both?" Gaius walked towards him, voice soft. "I know it's a slim chance, but there's no harm in trying."

Merlin was quiet. He then breathed out.

"What must I do?"

* * *

"This is ridiculous." Merlin said with a groan as they climbed to the roof.

"Just try."

"What, so just calling out will summon them?"

"You need to speak with the language you share with them."

"But I don't know that language!"

"Yes, you do, it's there. Deep down inside of you. Just call it forward," Gaius told him. Gwen and her father stood behind him, Merlin near the edge of the rooftop.

The warlock shook his head but closed his eyes, focusing.

"Dragons I summon you here before us!" he called out.

Silence.

"You're the last dragonlord now. You alone carry the ancient gift. Deep within yourself, you must find the voice that you and the dragons share. For your soul, and theirs, are family. When you speak to them as kin, they must obey your will. "

Breathing out, the warlock clenched and unclenched his palms. He coaxed his magic out to help him, small tendrils of gold slipping into his blue eyes. He felt a swell of power in his chest, a new yet vaguely familiar sensation that he couldn't describe, for there were no words spoken by the throats of men that could.

"_**O drakons, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes."**_

The three onlookers took a step back upon hearing the strange deep sounds that lilted off the warlock's tongue, but nothing remarkable happened.

It was quiet.

A small breeze.

Gaius sighed quietly in disappointment, walking slowly towards Merlin.

"I'm so sorry," the warlock whispered dejectedly.

"It's not your fault, my boy. We'll think of something else…"

"Merlin!" Gwen called out.

The boy and guardian turned to the sky, shivers coursing through their bodies. Through the silence they could hear the great thundering of wings. Beneath the silvery moonlight, large shapes plunged from the clouds. Dark, ominous, silent except for the wind that betrayed them. Those down in the streets below looked up at the creatures up above, screams reaching the ears of those standing at the rooftop.

Six dragons settled down on the turrets of the castle, tails wrapping around the great stone perimeters, scales like liquid silver from the light of the moon.

Then even the moon went dark.

A seventh dragon, the greatest of them all, with familiar golden scales and a wingspan to swallow the sun crashed down upon the rooftop, looking at the four humans with eyes the color of molten lava. Kilgarrah was silent. Then, slowly, the great creature bowed its head towards the warlock. Similarly, the dragons followed his example, inclining towards the wide-eyed boy.

"I know why you have summoned us, dragonlord, but know that we will not do as you please,'" Kilgarrah spoke with a voice like ice, eyes narrowed at the man before him.

"Won't you?" Merlin challenged. "You forget that you are under my command."

"Dragonlords should know better than to abuse their powers—"

"Well I don't know much about being a dragonlord, do I? Considering that you didn't tell me of this gift when I first met you. Have you forgotten, Kilgarrah, that my father helped save your life?"

"No."

"Then why do you treat me in such a manner?"

"When your father died, we realized that his son would bear the same gift. But in the years our race has grown tired of the control you dragonlords wield, and so we hoped that you would never learn of your identity, and the days of the lords would be over. It seems though, that we were mistaken."

"Enough talk of days past and dreams failed. You know what I want. You know what is at stake."

"We will not fight in your war."

"Why? This war determines the survival of the Old Religion in this world. Should we fail, Uther will be relentless in his hunting of you. He'll purge the dragons from the earth, and in that hour you'll find that there will be no sorcerers with the power to help you."

"It matters not. We are not pets to be summoned, and we will not obeisance to the race of man."

"_**VAI SE CURVAR A MIN**_**."** _you will bow to me_

Kilgarrah stepped back, bowing low to the warlock before him. Merlin regarded him with a marble gaze.

"When I first met you, I saw nothing but a creature filled with greed. But you were also a creature frightened and lost." He now moved his gaze to envelope all of the dragons, silent as they perched on the battlements. "Soon there will be no corners in the world to flee to, no shadows left in which to disguise yourselves. Perhaps, someday, there will be an age where dragons are forgotten, passed into legends, but it is not this day. Fight for us**, **_**Iztapt**_**."**_please_

The dragon looked at Merlin curiously, then at his brethren, golden eyes drooping and shoulders sagging as though letting out a sigh.

"Young warlock, you are brave to have summoned us here. Perhaps you are right. For many years we have suffered in the lonely dark, fearing for our lives and those of our kin. We were a proud race, once. We shall be again. We will fight."

This time, it was Merlin who bowed to the creature before him, low and humble. "Thank you, Great Dragon. We ride for Camland the dawn of the second day."

* * *

Soldiers saddled their horses in the courtyards down below, people beginning to line the streets to bid their fathers and sons a final farewell. Gwen was to assume control of the city while her father was gone, Gaius to ride with the army and act as physician. News from the druids had come swiftly, and the sorcerers had answered the call to war, riding now for Camland to fight under the name of their prophesized leader.

As for Merlin, the days had been a blur of tactics and fittings. Edwin, Phillip, Surevres, and Gaius had become his advisors, and they strategized long into the hours of the night. The dragons had arrived in Camland and waited now for the arrival of their dragonlord.

The pieces were set.

Merlin awoke the dawn of the second day feeling exhausted and anxious. It had been yet another sleepless night, haunted again by dreams of Morgana. He hadn't seen her the last few days, pointedly avoiding her—he couldn't afford the feelings she gave him now.

Getting dressed, he quickly saddled his horse before walking back into the citadel and towards Gwen, who waited for him in a long crimson dress.

"Princess."

"The men are ready?"

"They prepare their horses now."

"That's good news, general."

The pair was silent for a moment, and Gwen approached him stiffly.

"Are you ready?"

"No." Merlin shook his head. "I'm going mad in these tales of dungeons and dragons. Their twisted happenings are not only changing me, but turning me into something I never thought I could be."

"What?"

"A murderer."

"You're not a—"

"But I will be," he said bitterly. "What sights shall I face on the battlefield? Whose blood shall stain these hands? Was this the true purpose of my magic, to call innocents together to fight one another? Ever since I arrived in Glendale, I've been taught, and done my utmost to prove that my magic was a force for good. But where is the good in it when it is used to rip a man's soul from his body? My magic has turned me into a general, a warrior, and soon a murderer. I wonder now if Uther was right, because magic has corrupted me. It's turned me from an awkward, gangly idiot into the most feared man in the seven kingdoms. I'm so sorry, Gwen. I don't know where your magical farmboy has gone. It seems he is yet another casualty in this world bathed in blood."

Gwenivere reached over and embraced him, whispering softly in his ear. "That farmboy is not gone." She put a light hand over his heart, feeling it beat beneath her fingertips. "He's here. Deep down, hiding. He's been captured, beaten, whipped, burned, hated, feared, and betrayed. He's mangled and broken and so, so afraid. But he's still here. Perhaps someday we can coax him back. Until then, though, you have to be brave and you must have faith that a new age draws near, one of peace, love, and magic. But we need to fight for it if it's ever to come. Have faith, Merlin. The sun will rise someday on a world where the blood has washed away…Besides, you're still an idiot to me. "

Merlin looked down, a small smile lining his features. Suddenly, he reached for his neck and pulled off her necklace, the ring warm in his palm as he handed it out to her.

"I forgot to return this to you."

She gently closed his palm and moved it to rest above his heart.

"It has protected you once before, and I hope it'll do so again. Keep it."

A knight appeared down the corridor. "Sir, we're ready to leave."

"Thank you, I'll be there in a moment. Tell the men to mount their horses."

Gwen looked up at him, and tears started to flow from her eyes.

"Be safe, Merlin. Come home. Promise me," she choked, flinging her arms around his neck, her words and grip desperate.

"I promise," he whispered, holding her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder.

"Sir, we need to leave now."

Merlin pulled himself away from her, wiping the tears from her skin.

"You will be the greatest queen this land has ever known, and I'm so proud to have played a role in your life. Goodbye, Gwenivere."

And with that, he was gone down the corridor, out of sight.

The princess walked swiftly after him, standing at the foot of the stairs. Merlin had mounted his horse and moved now to join the other commanders riding near the king. Her voice rang clear as she addressed the soldiers before her, a soft wind blowing the flags they held up on rods of steel.

"Say goodbye now to your loved ones, and know that though you ride now for battle, you will always return. If not in body you will return in song. All will be heroes, and all shall go down in history. For tonight you ride to right a wrong, and to defend that which is threatened. Your home, your family, your kingdom, salutes you knights of Glendale. Ride now to a red dawn filled with the sounds of thundering hooves, cloven shields, and sharpening blades. You will dance to the twang of the bowstrings, the hum of the spear as it soars through the winds that will be yours to command. Ride now with dragons, sorcerers, and men. Know that you are equal. Soldiers we salute you, and we will meet again. Ride now for Camland, ride now for Glendale!"

The soldiers bashed their shields, drumming them in sync with their march. Slowly, the horses made their way out the courtyard and passed the crowds that lined the streets, beneath waving banners and among offered flowers. Roses rained from the balconies and many warriors caught them as they drifted towards the ground, tucking them into the spaces in their chainmail.

Deep within their caves, the fates watched with eager eyes. Withered fingers prepared the strings to cut with rusted knives. They called upon the reapers that stood silently nearby, sending them to the vast plain. Only they knew who would die on the bloodstained grass of Camland.

And there was no turning back now.

**GAAAHHHH IT'S TERRIBLENESS MAKES ME SHUDDER. God, it reads just like mozzarella cheese, I promise this is the worst chapter I'll ever right (sobs in embarrassment) I just needed to finish setting the stage for the war. **

**Figured that I'd put in the warnings now so that it doesn't ruin the mood when I start posting the next chapters. They won't be too bad, I think, nothing like the Mine or the branding, but it is still war. So yes, warning for violence. From now on the chapters will be more fast paced, and I hope you guys won't tire of them! Sorry I couldn't do something more exciting for this chapter, but some things just have to be done to make the story read better as a whole. **

**I watched the finale. Wish I didn't, but I did. So if anyone wants to fangirl, you may, so long as before your review you just write SPOILER in big letters so no one sees it who doesn't want to. **

**By the way I am ecstatic about the reviews! 18 ALONE IN THE LAST CHAPTER! GAHHHHH IT'S AMAZING! I hope you lot continue to drop by, I enjoy reading what you have to say!**

**Again, apologies that the chapter was not up to standard, it won't happen again (I hope)**

**Gosh, I'm still embarrassed, ignore me. **

**Until we meet again my lovelies!**


	15. Camlann

**HELLO EVERYONE! Here is the chapter, and I wanted to thank everyone in advance for the reviews! Also, a common comment came up:**

**Yes, I know now that Camland is spelled Camlann. What happened is I wrote this before the finale, so I never saw the proper spelling. I wrote it first Camla'n, but Merlyn said that didn't seem right so I went on tumblr and asked, and they told me Camland. However, after the finale it seems like that has changed to Camlann. I apologize, I didn't mean it and I'm doing my best to find and replace all the Camlands out there, but I'd love it if you were patient with me. **

**Also, Merlin is general because in this AU I figured he'd be more self confident considering he was able to outwardly use his magic and not hide. Also, as Emrys that makes him the leader among the druids, so the men he has a little control over are the druids with a few normal sorcerers tossed in there. Does that make sense?**

**As well, and this is IMPORTANT DEAR HEARTS, my Camlann is different than the Camlann in the series. I know, not canon, but I wrote this before I actually saw how Camlann actually looked, and I'd previously read an Arthuriana novel that depicted Camlann as a wide barren field-so that's how I wrote it in. I usually like things to be more canon, but I hope you'll forgive me for that detail. **

**ALL THE MERGANA SCENES ARE DEDICATED TO _THEFOUNDERSDAUGHTER_! She gave me the song _Little Talks by Of Mice and Monsters_, and I swear I've had it on replay all week, not listening to anything else. SO LISTEN TO IT. It's very Mergana. **

**It will give you feels. **

**(also _King and Lionheart_ by them is very Merlin)**

**ANYWAY! The rest of my notes below and enjoy the chapter!**

The plain was vast in every meaning of the term. If you looked in any direction you could see the curvature of the earth. It seemed fitting that the war would hold its battles here, for the plain was already soaked through with the blood of countless generations who had fought and died here long ago. The soil was burned, turned, trodden upon, and destroyed beyond repair. Nothing grew there anymore. Only a spare bush here and there broke through the loose sand. Bleak winds blew from the north, its screams sending shivers down the soldiers' spines, their clothes rippling, flags flapping.

Camlann was desolate, but it wouldn't be for long.

"My lords."A druid bowed low to the king and the three generals riding beside him. "We have scouted ahead before your arrival, and have seen great armies approaching. The force of Camelot rides towards us, with them their allies. They will be here by nightfall."

"Thank you, soldier," the king replied softly, turning to the men near him. "Order your men to set up camp and prepare themselves. We march when the sun sets."

Merlin gave a nod and turned his horse around, eyes flashing gold as he used the psychic link between him and his men. "_We ride at sunset, arm yourselves_."

The camp was set into motion, and a druid helped Merlin set up his tent, made from wide expanses of tan cloth. Inside he set up his cot and a table upon which he placed numerous maps and plans.

"My lord." The druid saluted Merlin—much to the warlock's dismay—before leaving the tent and the young general alone.

Sighing, Merlin ran his hand through his hair. He quickly washed up with some fresh water he conjured in a worn wooden bowl, his eyes finally resting on the armor laid out on his bed. It was polished and unworn, as ignorant to war as the man who wanted nothing more than not to put it on. He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and reluctantly pulled off his tunic. But looking down at the many layers, Merlin realized he didn't know where to start. He ran a hand over a piece of silver chainmail, fingers skimming the cold links of iron.

"Do you need help putting it on?"

Merlin spun around at Morgana's voice. She wore leather armor, small daggers sheathed in a belt round her waist.

"Morgana, what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry, the king won't allow me to fight—yet. But I am a sorceress, so I'll be helping the physicians when the wounded start coming in."

"You shouldn't have come."

"I don't take orders from you."

The two were silent, and Merlin turned from her. He could feel her eyes raking over his bare flesh. He felt self-conscious under her gaze.

Merlin heard her approach quietly, reaching around him and holding out a deep cobalt long-sleeved tunic. Tugging it on, he raised his arms in the air so she could help him into the chainmail shirt afterwards.

The iron links were heavy on his back.

Merlin was still as Morgana fastened another,finer black leather tunic over the chainmail, embroidered with the bounding white stag of Glendale. A gleaming ebony belt was tightened around his middle, and the warlock noticed that the buckle was the druid symbol, the Triskelion.

Next, Morgana fastened steel vambraces on his forearms, tightening the straps so that they were not quite uncomfortable. They gleamed in the fading light, and Merlin stared at them, transfixed, as Morgana then attached equally lusterous rerebraces, diamond in shape, to his upper arms.

She then knelt to attach metal greaves to his shins, over his dark trousers. The tails of the chainmail shirt would suffice in protecting his thighs.

Morgana walked behind him, preparing the triple-plated pauldrons for his shoulders His voice broke the silence.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Of course."

"I was so nervous as I tied the laces of your gown, I remember how my hands were shaking so terribly."

"I was no better off."

"Really?" he asked, looking at her curiously as she moved to stand in front of him, straightening the chainmail that was visible, running her hand over the leather on his chest.

"Really. There I was, standing with the back of my dress open with some strange, beautiful man who had wandered into my rooms without my knowledge, slowly tying the laces, his hands hot as they brushed my back. I was terrified-and blushing scarlet. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"I think I was too busy blushing myself."

The two laughed, eyes meeting. Cobalt held emerald, and emerald held cobalt. They froze, caught in the other's gaze.

"Morgana…I want to trust you—"

"Merlin, don't. Please. I know what I did, and I know I can't earn your forgiveness with simply an apology. But know that I love you, and I always loved you. I can tell you no more than that."

He sighed, brushing a hair from her face. "I love you too."

Outside, they could hear the clattering of weapons and the marching of men as soldiers headed for battle. The sound of their voices filtered through the cloth of the tent, filling the silence between the pair.

"Your hands are shaking," Morgana whispered, gripping Merlin's palm and bringing it to her face, kissing the bare flesh there softly. The warlock quivered, coming closer. He bent his head down slowly, Morgana angling her face and rising to meet him. They shared each other's breath for a moment, shuddering and impossibly close, disarmed. She rose up on her tip toes, kissing him gently. The kiss deepened as Merlin's hand wound around her waist, bringing her flush against his armored body. Her own hand skimmed the back of his neck to rest in his hair, tugging on the black strands to close the nonexistent gap left between them.

Their hold on each other was desperate as the sounds of war grew ever louder around them. Reluctantly, Merlin pulled back, kissing Morgana again on the forehead to keep the taste of her in his dry mouth. She held onto him, hand running down his side, her touch searing him even through the steel armor.

"It's time," Merlin whispered, his breath moving the loose strands of hair around her face. Morgana moved behind him to drape the last of his garb around his shoulders – a black, scarlet-bellied cape, fastened beneath his throat with a silver dragon clasp

"I'll be waiting," she replied, embracing him against her warm body. "And I'll be expecting you in one piece."

Merlin nodded, extracting himself from her noiselessly. He was moving to leave when her voice stopped him.

"Forgetting something?"

The warlock turned to see her holding his sword. She walked over and placed it in its sheathe on his waist.

"Now, general, you are fit for battle."

* * *

The ride out towards the battlefield was quiet and grey. Twilight set out upon Camlan, a light silver fog rolling in, cool and damp. Merlin's men were to take the front line, General Galahad's men behind, and the king's men would be the rear gaurd. A battalion of reserves led by General Lucan would remain at camp should the battle go ill.

At the front of the army, the warlock shuddered. He was leading his men silently, their steady marching a seemingly endless rhythm.

Suddenly, Merlin heard Kilgarrah's voice in his head. **_Stop. Camelot's forces are only a league away._**

The warlock looked up to the cloudy gray heavens, eyes straining to catch so much as a shadow in the darkening sky. But the dragons were invisible, soaring far over the battlefield. Secret and unseen.

Shaking a shiver that rippled down his spine, the general pulled out a white and black horn from his side. He put the silver head to his mouth and blew. The sound was eerie and long, echoing in the vast plain. Behind him the marching stopped, the army stilling at his command.

_Emrys, are they here?_

Merlin turned to the druid on a white horse beside him, he was young, still a boy. He had a mop of black hair, and ice blue eyes. His name, Merlin would later learn, was Mordred.

_Yes, yes they are._

The boy gave his general a grim smile and looked ahead, a deathly silence falling over Camlann as they waited for a response.

A hidden sun fell from the sky, and Merlin watched at the corner of his eye as the soldiers lit torches to stay the darkness.

It seemed like their enemies had the same thought.

Up ahead, through the fading fog, Merlin watched as fires appeared before them. They grew and grew in number, until it was as though they were facing a night sky full of burning stars. The wind set the sparks up in the air, and the warlock couldn't help but liken them to wildflowers, growing at random, countless and bright.

Now the armies could see each other. The warlock felt sick to his stomach as he saw the unending numbers that fought for Camelot's scarlet banner. When the king had said they were outnumbered, Merlin never thought of how that might look. He knew now, and he felt fear begin to sharpen the edges of his reality. Adrenaline, swiftly and surely, filled his veins, painting his world in frigid clarity. His heart began to pump faster, and despite the chill air he felt his skin begin to cover with a cold sheen of perspiration.

Then it started.

A horn blew from behind him, loud and clear. The king's horn. Merlin nodded at his men and they squared their shoulders in anticipation. As he looked to the sky, the warlock knew the dragons had heard the eerie call. They needn't be told that it had begun. Merlin let out a breath, and it fogged in the golden light from the fires nearby. He cracked his fingers and rolled the muscles in his back. Slowly, the warlock coaxed the magic crackling at the surface of his being outside, eyes lighting up as bright as the torches at his side. Feeling the eyes of his men on him, Merlin closed his eyes.

It was time to put on a little show.

"_Flobakhmo."_

* * *

Arthur was riding at the front line, the familiarity of his armor comforting on his shoulders. He always hated this part. The waiting. They had ridden swift and fast to Camlann, the dense fog slowing them like marshland. Halfway across the barren plain, they had heard it. A horn, its song low and long, echoing past the gray to reach them. Telling them their enemy was ahead.

The prince froze, holding out his arm to stay the troops behind him. And then they waited. They waited until the sun set on their battlefield, the dark setting in and making them even blinder than before. As they lit their torches, they watched as their opponents did the same. Hundreds of balls of light dead ahead, glowing through the darkening mist.

Just as Arthur turned to speak to Sir Percival, who rode at his side, another horn sounded across the plain. This one was louder, and adrenaline rushed into the prince's blood.

Then Camlann went black.

The torches all blew out at the same time, leaving nothing behind but the smell and tendrils of smoke. It was so dark that all Arthur could see was his silvery breath rising before his eyes.

"That was no wind, it was sorcery," Percival murmured at his right.

Arthur didn't reply, his eyes fixated ahead through the black. Around him, his soldiers were hustling to relight their torches, but the prince was still. He knew who cast that spell, and he knew it wasn't by accident.

Bitter rain began to fall from the pitch black skies, splashing on the iron of his armor. The droplets seemed to hit him in slow motion, splashing off the gleaming plates, falling through the cracks in his helmet. Arthur looked up at the heavens, apprehension prickling down his skin.

He raised the ivory horn at his side and blew it slowly, the sound rippling through the raindrops.

Then thunder, unlike any natural thunder, shook the ground beneath them. Its sound was rumbling and low, deafening and long. The trained war horses shifted and snorted nervously, as jumpy as their riders.

"TO ARMS," the crown prince called over the din.

Lightening forked through the sky like a tree with a thousand branches, and for a second, everything was blindingly bright. Arthur saw a great host before them, but his men's screams turned his deep blue eyes to the cloudy skies above.

He caught sight of them just as the electrocuting light faded.

_Shit._

"SHIELDS!" Arthur barely put his own up on time, kicking his horse back to join a large iron plate formation as the first wave of fire hit them. Men screamed in pain and terror as the dragons fell from the sky, their very breath the harbinger of death. Arthur hid his head in the crook of his shoulder, the weight of his shield unbearable in the terrible heat. Horses bucked their riders to and fro, running off into the dark, never to be seen again.

The crown prince let down his shield and looked around. His men were terrified, many turning and fleeing. Percival's call of warning shifted his gaze, and Arthur watched a silver dragon dive low, claws tearing deep into the sand. He leapt off his horse, tumbling to the side just as the talons ripped past him, tearing his horse and dozens of men to threads as it hit the ranks like a battering ram. All around him, other dragons were doing the same, destroying the plain and shattering the front line. The world was on fire, the smoke stopping everything and everyone. The prince turned and attempted the cover his soldiers as the sky came crashing in. Even in the lulls of silence he knew something was coming down from the heavens above. Then he took his chance. Arthur braced himself, rising to his feet and lifting his fallen shield into his aching hand.

"_Hold, hold! Knights, stand firm, stand firm. You are the soldiers under the scarlet banner. Drive back dark, fell deed with bright iron. Go forth now and fear no darkness_!" The prince raised his sword high in the air, its blade bright in the light of the fires. "FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!"

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!"

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!"

The shouts drowned out the screams, and the army pushed forward. Arthur led men on foot as they ran across the battlefield, horses overtaking them, riders readying arrows and spears.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!"

* * *

**_Pull back, they near our lines. Protect our flank._** Merlin ordered the dragons, his thoughts powerful with the nearness of his magic. The general drew his sword and held it high.

"_Archers at the ready!"_ he shouted and thought out to his soldiers. Around him, bows pulled taunt

The first of Camelot's soldiers broke through the fog, covered in mud, soot, and blood. Merlin looked up to the sky and snapped his fingers, the heavy rain stopping.

Now his archers could see better.

"_Forbearne_!"

The druids let loose their arrows, Merlin's spell setting them all alight and they rained down on the soldiers running towards them. Screams ripped ragged through the air, men before them falling, horses tumbling, crashing to the ground as they were pierced and set aflame by burning shafts.

Arthur's call reached Merlin's ears through the chaos, and the soldiers stopped and formed a line of shields. Behind them, their double ranks of archers readied bows of their own, setting their arrows alight with the fires that still burned the corpses of their companions.

"FIRE!"

The order was loud, and Merlin pulled out his hand as the first reply of arrows sliced through the wind towards them.

"_CHIATIN_."

A silvery shield exploded, covering the whole army for a moment as the arrows rained down on them. They turned to dust as they hit the magical vapor, and the shield held until the last shaft fell down in pieces above them. Merlin righted himself on his horse, his head spinning for a moment.

Arthur shook his head in anger but lifted his arm again.

"SECOND VOLLEY READY!"

Merlin turned to his soldiers, not speaking but telling them through thoughts faster than words to prepare their arrows, the druids setting them alight themselves this time.

"FIRE!"

_Fire!_

The streams of arrows met in the air, criss-crossing. Druids shifted nervously as the arrows came threateningly close, preparing their own defensive spells.

They didn't need to use them.

Merlin held out his hand and all the arrows stopped midair, Arthur's eyes widening as they turned around and returned to kill his men with devastating accuracy.

Blood spilled from the warlock's nose but he didn't stop, pulling up another shield as Arthur ordered his men to fire at will.

Finally the arrows stopped, and both sides were still. Then Arthur raised his sword and roared, his soldiers running towards their enemies.

Merlin pulled out his horn again, blowing hard, and the men unsheathed their swords and moved to meet Camelot's soldiers. The warlock spurred his horse, pulling Excalibur free and tightening his grip on its hilt. His gray mount rushed forward, others at his side readying to collide with the other riders that raced in from the opposing side.

The two armies crashed against each other just as another bolt of lightning exploded above them, Merlin losing control of a part of his magic. Clouds roiled above, as though they were fighting just as viciously as the forces on the ground.

Swinging his sword, the warlock decapitated a soldier rushing towards him, his blood showering him. His horse pranced, its hooves like knives as they mowed down the foot soldiers below them. The gray steed jumped and bucked, one of Merlin's hands tight on the pommel of the saddle and the other slicing his sword through the sea of soldiers below him.

_EMRYS!_

Merlin turned to see a druid screaming his name, his voice roaring in his mind. The warlock spun around to see a spear flying towards him. Raising his hand, the warlock's eyes shone as he shattered the spear and shoved the man who threw it magically off his horse. Merlin caught his breath, his sword nearly falling from his hand.

Still distracted by the smoke and fire around him, the warlock nearly missed the other rider that burst into his vision. Merlin ducked low in his saddle, his enemy's sword just slicing the top of Merlin's head, making his helmet crash to the ground. The warlock pulled himself up quickly and parried the next blow from the relentless attacker, their blades locking together. A drop of sweat rolled down Merlin's pale face and his arms burned as they tried to push each other off their mounts with brute force. Eyes glowing gold, Merlin's magic rushed to his aid, and the other man's sword snapped in half, its shards flying around them. The warlock pulled his sword back quickly and stabbed the soldier in the chest.

Suddenly, his horse let out a scream and Merlin was thrown, quickly and violently, to the ground. The warlock didn't have time to watch his horse fall before a soldier began thrusting his sword down, trying to stab Merlin as he lay winded on the muddy plain. Merlin rolled to the side and quickly jumped to his feet, body groaning but swift with the aid of adrenaline. He blocked the man's second blow easily, Mordred finishing the man off. Giving him a nod of thanks, Merlin readied himself for his next opponent.

And there were plenty.

Shouts that the general had fallen from his horse spurred many of Camelot's knights to seek glory in the death of their enemy's commander, and Merlin was soon surrounded by the familiar armor of his foe. The warlock didn't bother using his sword. Muttering a spell, eyes flashing gold, he slammed his blade into the earth and it rippled, blasting all his enemies around him into the air. Dizzied, the warlock approached the next soldier, rain beginning to fall heavily overhead.

This time, it wasn't at Merlin's command.

Fire and deep scarlet, be it on cloak, skin, or armor, were the only colors on the battlefield. Both sides struggled on grounds slippery with mud and blood, the wounded and dead only obstacles in the ways of the living. It was dark. It was loud. It was hot. But it couldn't last forever.

Arthur Pendragon pulled his sword from the body of his latest opponent and surveyed his surroundings. He could feel his men being pushed back by Glendale's forces, and he could see the rising number of corpses on the muddy earth. Gritting his teeth, the prince did all he could do.

The horn that sounded over the plain was in many ways wonderful to all, because it meant that the first battle was over. But even as Glendale's men warily began to head back towards their camp, disengaging from the equally taxed enemy, they didn't feel victorious.

Especially not Merlin.

The general rushed into camp on shaking feet, sword still dripping blood.

"Emrys, what are you doing here?" An old druid lady cried out, trying to hold him back with wrinkled hands, but he only shook her off.

"My magic can still save lives," and with those words he stumbled into the infirmary tents.

People who were there would speak about it for decades to come. How he came to them, still dressed in his bloodstained armor, face covered in mud and soot. How he leaned over them and whispered spells, aided in stitching, mixing life-saving tonics. How even as he sealed their wounds, they could see his bleeding. Until finally, after having exhausted all that was left of his strength, he fell on his knees and was borne away by healers into his personal tent.

"Leave me," Merlin coughed, leaning against his bed-stand.

"Emrys—"

"My magic is still unchecked, I could harm all of you at any given moment and I can't afford that now on my already heavy conscience."

"But you're injured—"

"I'm fine, I can tend to myself. My wounds aren't deep. All I need is rest."

"But, my lord—"

"As your general, I am ordering you to leave," he snapped. The healers, casting looks at each other, quickly departed. All but one, of course.

"That was an order."

"A fool's order."

Merlin turned to look at Morgana, his face cross. "A fool's order it may be, but an order nonetheless."

"I don't take orders from servants."

"I'm much more than a servant."

"But I am a lady."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Merlin spoke with a frigid voice. "You stay here and you could get hurt. My magic—"

"Merlin, you and I both know that after you use so much magic you have no power left to use. The others might not know it, but I do. Currently, you are no danger to anyone but yourself."

Merlin smiled softly, turning back to look at himself in the worn silver mirror near his bed. When he spoke, he spoke quietly, words heavy. "Is it wrong to ask to be left alone?"

"Yes, when you're injured and battle-worn." Sighing, Morgana continued when she heard no witty response. "Let me tend to your wounds, then I promise to leave."

He shook his head. "You're not my maidservant. Besides, you've used enough magic, you're not strong enough—"

"Don't underestimate me," she snapped, walking swiftly over and turning him to face her. "And I know I'm not your maidservant. However, since you are too stubborn to get one and no other person can seem to get into that thick skull of yours, the task falls to me. Now stop fidgeting."

Merlin stilled after briefly rolling his eyes—for which he received a smack. Pulling off the many dirt-stained layers took time, Morgana doing her best not to disturb any unseen wounds. She conjured a bowl of water and a soft cloth, bringing out bandages from within the folds of her robes.

"I'm afraid there's no tub of water for you to bathe in. Besides, chances are you will be dirty sooner than you'd like."

He nodded, trying to remain motionless as Morgana assessed the damage with a critical eye, gently beginning to dab away at the dirt and muck. If he had any wounds, they were superficial. After a moment, she spoke again.

"You can't do that anymore, leave the battlefield and tend to others before yourself."

"They're my men—"

"And you their general. Don't you understand, Merlin, that you are precious-not only for these battles, but for the future as well. The druids won't thank you if you die trying to save them. I'm not telling you not to help, but help after you've at least tended to your wounds."

Merlin sighed. "Morgana, I'm fine. Look at me, just a few cuts and bruises-"

"But you won't always be so lucky. After so many battles, things begin to blur. If you continue to exhaust yourself, you'll find you enter combat tired. And in a field of war, that means injury…even death."

"You know so much about this—"

"Have you forgotten I grew up among battle-hardened men? I was a little girl when Uther was still sealing Camelot's power, and I watched the soldiers return haunted and broken. And of course as I grew, I was always at Arthur's side. I know what battles do, I know what death and blood do, the effect they have on the heart and mind. So tru—just promise me you'll take care of yourself as well as others, Merlin."

He nodded and she set back to work, neither speaking. By the time it took her to wash away and seal the cuts with magic, exhaustion finally caught up with him. After a half an hour, his head had fallen on her shoulder, and his eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell slowly, body shaking every so often when Morgana would mutter a healing spell.

Finally pleased with her work, the sorceress turned her head slowly to look at where he had settled on her right shoulder, wetting her fingers and running them through his hair to help clean it. She brushed away the dirt and dried blood, leaving his black hair wet but somewhat unsoiled. Looking down at him again, she nearly jumped when she saw his blue eyes were open. They were dazed and glassy with tiredness, but awake nonetheless.

Morgana gently moved him away from her, setting him up on the bed. Removing his boots, she covered him with a woolen blanket. He looked up at her, dark circles under his eyes. His voice was quiet and hoarse when he spoke, so quiet Morgana had to strain to hear him.

"Stay with me? Please, don't leave," he begged.

She pulled over a chair. Taking his hand in hers, she lifted it and kissed his palm as she had done before the battle, making him smile. Merlin tightened his grip on her hand and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Looking down at him, Morgana couldn't help but think that he looked like a little boy, hair tussled, wrapped up in his blanket. She leaned back in her chair and watched him long into the night, dismissing his nightmares with the squeeze of a hand, and every so often, a soft kiss.

* * *

The camp was growing silent. They would burn the dead they carried in at dawn, and clean their armor tomorrow. But at least, for tonight, the soldiers—from Glendale and Camelot—could sleep soundly.

However there was one man who refused to rest. He left his tent and passed where his soldiers slept, nodding at the guards as he stepped out of the boundaries of his camp and into the plain. Looking out at Camlann, he smiled. Uther Pendragon squared his shoulders. His plan was set in motion, it would only be a matter of time before it began to yield the desired results.

Winter was coming. And they'd best prepare themselves before it hit.


	16. Winter Ice

**Hello everyone (ducks down) hope no one is planning on killing me. I know the chapter is late, but I didn't have a cliffhanger in the last chapter so i figured you wouldn't miss me...**

**I HAD FINALS BUT THEY ARE OVER NOW. THAT IS WHY I'M LATE. Good luck to all of you still taking them, and congratulations to those who finished!**

**Here is the chapter! I hope you enjoy it!**

Autumn passed slowly. They couldn't see it in the changing color of the leaves, but they could feel it in the air. A cold had come, and as the days grew shorter and the nights longer, they knew winter was setting in.

The days were beginning to blur. When Merlin wasn't on the battlefield, he was at the infirmary. When he wasn't at the infirmary, he was strategizing with his advisors or the king. Edwin and Surevres had taken to the battlefield, Gaius and Phillip heading the makeshift hospital. As the number of their meetings increased, the physicians could see the effect the lengthening war was having on the three other members of their team. Dark circles riddled their eyes, and their movements were slow, labored.

As the numbers of battles grew, they began sensing a pattern. In victory or in loss, Glendale's forces were being pushed back. It wasn't that their force was weaker-it was that it was simply smaller. For every Camelot soldier killed, there were ten more to take his place. The worst thing about it was that they didn't know how to stop it, how to turn the tide, and still their numbers lessened as the death toll rose.

A surprising asset in these darkening days was none other than Uther Pendragon's ward. Morgana had become invaluable in helping predict her old guardian's motives, aiding the ministers of war in understanding the strengths and weaknesses of Camelot's army. Her respect among the druids rising due to the multitude of days she spent tending to the wounded.

Merlin helped nurse her magic. Every day it grew in strength, and soon the warlock found himself training her for battle. He still refused to let Morgana fight though, but he promised her that one day they would do so side by side. It wasn't that he thought her lesser than him, but because he didn't want her to slaughter the men who had once been her friends.

And so the days passed in such a manner, the twilight hours lingering, the cold demanding thicker cloaks and larger fires. The nights were the cruelest. A thick silence only gave the soldiers more time to dream of the horrors they had seen, and the frigid air did little to help the restless sleep. It was on such a night that Merlin found Morgana standing at the edge of camp. She hadn't come to his tent at sundown—he'd grown accustomed to her dropping by and sharing a meal, the pair speaking long into the hours of the night until exhaustion forced Morgana back to her own makeshift home. And so when she didn't arrive long after the sun had bled out of the sky, the warlock set out to find her.

She was standing quietly at the edge of camp, wearing only a thin cloth dress, her arms wrapped around herself to ward off the cold. Merlin silently approached and unfastened his own cloak, setting it on her shoulders. Morgana gave a visible sigh of relief and turned to look at him, a tear running down her face.

"What happened?" he murmured, pulling her into his arms.

"We lost a druid boy today. He was so young. Daegal was his name. Shot by an arrow in the chest, and for days I worked to heal him but…but my magic wasn't strong enough."

"Your magic, Morgana, is not at fault. We all die, have a written time for us to depart this world. That's simply the way of things. We can try to prevent death, but sometimes it's inevitable," Merlin took her chin and forced her to look up at him. "You mustn't blame yourself, Morgana."

She nodded and pulled away, looking out at Camlann.

"It smells like snow."

Merlin nodded grimly. "So the druid elders are saying. They also predicted that we will fight another battle tomorrow."

"Have they seen anything?"

"No. Have you?"

"No...Perhaps that is for the best," Morgana shed his cloak and handed it back to him, but Merlin refused it and instead securely fastened it around her.

The sorceress smiled. "Such chivalry. You should go, Merlin, if there is to be a battle tomorrow, you'll need to be well rested."

"And you?"

"I'm going to go check if Phillip needs anything, then I'll retire."

Merlin nodded, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead.

"Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

"My lord, Camelot's forces are approaching."

Merlin nodded. "Tell the men to prepare."

The young general blew his horn, soldiers around him rushing to their feet and running off. The warlock looked to the skies, a snowflake falling on his nose. Sometime during the night it had begun to snow—heavily. Now a blanket of pristine ivory covered the earth, where men and horses moved it was churned into muddy slush. Merlin pulled his black cloak off his shoulders, embracing the frigid air that turned his weathered chainmail to ice. He mounted his horse, moving to the front of the growing number of soldiers.

To give the men a chance to rest, Merlin's druids would fight today, the king's regiment to answer the next call to battle.

"Emrys."

Merlin turned to young Mordred's voice, and he smiled. The general had taken the druid boy under his wing. Mordred was strong, if not unsure about his magic. Merlin was willing to help him, and in return Mordred had steadfastly ridden next to the warlock in battle, watching over him if he chose to use a powerful spell on the battlefield that left him weak.

"Like snow, Mordred?"

"Yes, but I have a feeling that might change by sundown."

Merlin grinned somberly and rode forward, his mounted regiment sounding like thunder in his wake.

**_Kilgarrah, what news have you of Arthur's men?_**

**_They are almost upon you._**

The feeling that came before every battle crawled into the warlock's gut, his horse's heavy steps familiar in their pattern and weight. Bitter wind rushed past his face, and his breath fogged. The sky was white like the parchment writers scrawled their stories on, and in his mind, Merlin wondered what they would write of this battle. Wondered with a heavy heart who would be among the dead, the wounded, the broken.

Camelot's army was blood red on the horizon, their vibrant cloaks unsullied by the flakes of ivory that fell from the still heavens. They sounded their horns, almost as though greeting the men they would kill and be killed by. Merlin raised his hand, motioning his men to stop. The armies looked across the field at each other, the shifting of horses and weathered chainmail the only sound besides the whistling wind.

From the bleak sky, seven dragons crashed to the earth, standing between the two great forces. Merlin almost took in pleasure in the obvious shifting of Camelot's men, their horses neighing as they looked upon the iron-scaled beasts before them.

But Arthur didn't flinch. He never did.

The sound of his horn was carried by the wind to Merlin's ears, and the warlock watched as, from over the hill, soldiers pulled in giant catapults loaded with boulders. The stones were pulled back by the contraptions, and before Merlin had time to develop a plan, they came hurtling towards them, followed by spears shot like lightning from ballistas larger than the warlock had ever seen.

He watched in horror as the boulders and blades fell with devastating accuracy towards the dragons, the creatures pulling back quickly into the sky at the onslaught. It was the first time the dragons had ever been challenged in battle, and Merlin's eyes filled with worry.

**_Kilgarrah, pull them back, pull them back!_**

**_We can handle them, young warlock!_**

**_I will no risk it, leave, go!_**

**_Let us destroy the machines._**

**_Kilgarrah—_**

But the dragon wouldn't listen, leading his brethren towards Camelot's army.

"Ride!" Merlin shouted, and his force rushed forward. For a moment it was wind and smooth adrenaline. His heart beat fast in his ears, drowning the sound of his horse's thundering hooves. Merlin caught a glimpse of Mordred racing beside him, sword unsheathed and shining in the ivory light they were bathed in.

Then the clarity was shattered by the heat, blood, and screams of battle. Brilliant red splattered the once pristine white, and soon the snow turned to mud and slush that splattered both sides with freezing water.

* * *

The vision hit Morgana hard, and she felt to her knees as the vivid images lit her mind like lightening. Druids nearby approached, but didn't touch her—they knew seers shouldn't be disturbed when they were "seeing."

_Catapults,__ dragons' flame, crimson cloaks. Racing horses from a hill, a spear, blood._

_A black arrow._

Her eyes burned gold as they opened, wide with fear.

"_No…_"

* * *

"_Forbearne_," Merlin incanted, a gust of fire setting a dozen men around him aflame, black smoke rising into the otherwise untouched sky.

Ahead of him, the dragons dipped and fell towards the earth, their talons breaking apart the wooden catapults. It was almost too easy. Only when their army was fully engaged did Merlin recognize their folly. From over the hill rose another mounted crimson regiment, and they galloped behind them, closing off Glendale's forces.

_They were trapped._

"Archers ready!" A man shouted, and Merlin spun and watched as soldiers sent hundreds of arrows towards them.

"_Chiatin_!"

The shield exploded over the battlefield, momentarily covering them in a glimmering, vaporous blue. Merlin swayed on his horse, winded.

"EMRYS!"

Mordred leapt towards him, knocking the warlock off his horse as the next volley of arrows sped towards them. They crashed onto the earth, the hard ground bruising them. The cold slush cleared Merlin's mind. He helped Mordred to his feet and gripped his sword tightly. Standing back to back, they were surrounded by enemy knights, Camelot's men pointing their swords at the two sorcerers.

"Now," Merlin shouted, and the pair pushed off each other and towards their opponents, eyes glowing gold as they sent men flying back, parrying with their swords as a reprieve.

But the soldiers were relentless, and no one had the time to come to their aid. Slowly, Merlin could feel his strength leaving him.

That's when he saw Mordred fall.

A spear came flying out, unforeseen, embedding itself in the druid boy's shoulder before he could stop it. Merlin cried out as he watched him fall to his knees, his fury sending dozens of men half way across the battlefield. He pulled Mordred to his feet, the boy heavy on the warlock's already aching shoulder. But the warlock grit his teeth and brandished his sword, golden eyes challenging any to approach. Many took it, falling at Merlin's hand and magic. Yet black was beginning to edge into the warlock's reality, and he knew he wouldn't be able to support Mordred for much longer.

Then he felt a jarring pain in his lower abdomen, as though someone had just kicked him in the gut. Merlin looked down, vision blurring as he stared blankly at the shaft of an arrow where it shouldn't be. He felt no pain, only emptiness. The world began to dull and he fell to his knees on the hard earth. Countless soldiers, each desiring the glory of felling their enemy's leader, raced towards him, blades outdrawn and demanding blood.

Suddenly, Merlin remembered Mordred, awake but clinging to him weakly, and a white hot rage filled him with a moment's strength. He cried out as his eyes burned gold, cobalt flames leaping into the sky, encircling them and protecting them from the knights. It gave him a minute, and he turned to Mordred, pulling out the spear in his shoulder and covering the wound quickly with his palm, muttering a healing spell.

His body buckled as his magic knitted the druid's wound, Mordred sighing with relief and battling the unconsciousness that threatened to take hold. He held Merlin tightly, hand moving to the arrow in Merlin's stomach before the warlock's bloody palm stopped him.

"No, Mordred."

The boy met his gaze with widened ice blue eyes, filled with worry and surprise.

"Heal yourself, you must heal yourself!"

Merlin gave him a weak smile, and his eyes burned gold before flickering out like a candle, returning to a clouded azure.

"I can't."

The flames that were protecting them began to fade away, and Merlin looked down at the arrow embedded in his abdomen. He couldn't pull it out now, for he'd bleed to death, but if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to fight. Merlin closed his eyes and grit his teeth, crying out as he attempted to break the black shaft. But the pain nearly rendered him unconscious, and he looked up at Mordred with a clenched jaw.

"Snap it off."

"Emrys?"

"Morded, snap it—I can't fight with it sticking out like this."

"It'll be impossible to pull out later, you'll bleed—"

"Do it, hurry!"

Mordred took a deep breath and broke off the majority of the black wood as quickly as he could, but still Merlin's scream tore through the sky. The druid boy helped him to his feet, and the two faced the soldiers that raced towards them through the flames.

Merlin raised his sword with one hand, the other trying to stop the warm blood that gushed through his chainmail, the broken wood splintering his palm. A knight swung a mace towards him, and the parry jarred the warlock's shoulder, the next sending him stumbling back to fall once again to the ground.

Men surrounded him, and at the back of his mind, Merlin could hear Mordred screaming his name.

Then, all the men were turned to ash, and a hand reached down to pull him onto a horse.

"Morgana," Merlin whispered as she straightened him on the mount. Morgana wrapped an arm around Merlin's waist, her hand covering the wound firmly, his blood staining her fingers. He knew she couldn't heal him, not now when her magic was still needed, but still in her arms he found comfort.

"Take the reins," she ordered, raven hair like a halo around her. Hands free, she lifted her arms, chanting. "_Me fero, glacies et nives bellum quoque cruentus sanguine candidae et inimicos!"_

The strength of the spell near blacked her out, but the sounds of war called her back to reality, and she looked out onto the battlefield to see whether she had succeeded. Slowly, from the snow, rose figures. They grew taller and taller until they became giant soldiers brandishing swords of ice. Their faces were rough, snow dropping from where their white eyelids blinked irises a burning gold like those of the sorceress who summoned them. Arthur's men shifted nervously, but leapt forward despite the fear to face the new challenge. The snow soldiers fell easily with a blow, but their quick blades and growing numbers began to free some of Glendale's exhausted men.

Morgana took the horn from Merlin's side and raised it to her lips, Glendale's men falling back at its sound. She incanted another spell to clear a path through the din, Camelot's men falling at her wake. Looking up, the sorceress watched as a devastating rain of arrows and spears fell down upon the fleeing men. She snapped her fingers, the sound like thunder, and a great flame filled the sky, burning the weapons and then turning and falling in waves upon Arthur's men. No water would dull the fires, and the enemy soldiers screamed as the heat consumed them.

"KILGARRAH!" Morgana screamed over the cries, her power reaching the dragon's ears.

**_"Yes, Priestess?"_**

"Guide the men back to camp. Help the wounded."

The dragon nodded and the creatures thundered overhead. But Arthur's men kept coming. She shook her head and turned the horse around, grip tightening around Merlin's waist. Men raced past her and soon Morgana was facing Camelot's army, the only one left. Her horse pranced before them, but the soldiers were hesitant to approach the sorceress.

Closing her eyes, she began to mutter a spell, a fire never leaving her irises. Clouds filled the heavens, turning black. Raising her arm, Morgana cried out as she ripped a bolt of lightning from the sky, the white light splitting the earth open. A chasm opened between Camelot's army and the fleeing men, but Morgana didn't ride back. Her gaze was instead held by Arthur's, who watched her with a stiffened jaw, eyes filled with pain. For a moment, there was silence upon the battlefield.

Then Arthur's voice carried across the chasm like a lonely breeze.

"Morgana, you have made your choice. You have chosen to betray Camelot, your family, and your friends-"

"My family is right here. You would do well, Arthur Pendragon, to judge where yours is, too," she called out, cutting him off, and turned away, racing back with what remained of the druids and soldiers making up Glendale's force.

* * *

Gaius's eyes widened as a slow procession of men appeared through the growing fog. Other soldiers mounted their horses and galloped into the mist, returning with scores upon scores of broken men. It was quiet. The wrenching screams of the wounded and dying ripping through the unsettling silence. Racing towards his advisor, the king's eyes widened in horror at the scene before him.

Finally, from the mist, approached a chestnut horse. Gaius felt his heart shatter as he saw his ward riding towards them, falling sideways off the horse without a sound. Druids raced forward, but Gaius's attention was held by the rider he hadn't noticed.

Morgana's face was covered in soot, hair tangled and loose over her shoulders, leaning forward precariously on the horse. Men ran to her aid, helping her from the mount.

Something within Gaius died that day as he watched medics lift the pair onto stretchers, bearing them away side by side into the already brimming infirmary.

* * *

Morgana woke in a warm bed, nestled within woolen blankets. Every muscle ached, and though the sunlight warmed her skin, she felt impossibly cold. Her eyes adjusted slowly, blinking at the bright light.

She was in her tent, the white cloth familiar to her gaze. Morgana smiled as she scanned the room, catching sight of Merlin seated on a wooden chair next to her bed. His shoulder was in a sling, but he looked fine. Letting out a sigh of relief, Morgana tried not to think of how she'd found him on the battlefield. _Fallen, covered in blood, his face like death._ Now Merlin was reading a book, blue eyes scanning the page, calm and serene.

"What are you reading?"

He looked up in surprise, face lighting up as he saw her awake.

"And so she lives. I'm flipping through a book I found on your shelf."

"Which one?"

"A book of poetry."

Morgana smiled. "One of my favorites."

"I can tell," he said with an easy laugh. "Almost every page is marked."

Merlin laughed louder at her blush. She merely rolled her eyes and tried to get up, met with what only could be lightening in her head. Falling back down, Morgana groaned.

"Yes, I don't suggest you get up. You used a lot of magic out there, and I'm afraid rest is the only cure. "

She sighed, studying him. "How are you?"

"Never better," he replied with a cheeky grin.

"Why the good mood?"

His smile only grew wider, eyes twinkling. "It's nothing, just that I'm proud of you, single-handedly saving the day—"

"No, Merlin—"

"I'm serious," his face became stern. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, so, thank you."

Morgana nodded before muttering under her breath. "_He says "proud of you" like I'm not as strong as him, as if I couldn't beat him any day of the week_—"

"What? No."

"Oh yes."

"Oh no."

"Merlin, you know I could crush you if I wanted to."

"Well, I'm glad we don't have to test that theory because I know how much you hate losing."

Morgana was about to reply tartly when Professor Phillip burst in, greeting the sorceress quickly before turning to Merlin with narrowed eyes.

"What did I tell you?"

"Hmm…I don't remember."

"I told you that you weren't to get out of bed, and here I find you _again_! You need to rest, boy, or you won't heal properly."

"I AM resting."

"Not on a bed, you're not. Go lie down."

"Bed, you said?" Merlin muttered something under his breath that Morgana couldn't catch, pulling off his boots. "Scooch," he ordered, and she laughed as he crawled into bed next to her, eyes on Phillip.

"Happy?"

His former teacher sighed, but nodded, winking at Morgana before leaving. She turned to Merlin with a raised eyebrow.

"Never better, you said?"

"It's a saying that can be easily exaggerated. It needn't always be true—" He winced, gasping slightly as he touched his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Kilgarrah healed the wound in my side, but my shoulder bone was fractured in the fight. It's small though, so they're not using magic. It's nothing."

Morgana shook her head, moving to rest in Merlin's arms, head on his unwounded shoulder as they leaned against the simple wooden headboard of her bed. His hand absentmindedly stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes.

"Read to me," the sorceress ordered softly.

"Whatever my lady commands." Merlin reached over and opened the book, the two spending the rest of the afternoon buried in the pages of Morgana's favorite book.

* * *

"Arthur, what happened out there?" Uther snapped, pacing his tent angrily.

The prince hesitated before answering. "Morgana, my lord, she is stronger than we anticipated—"

Uther shook his head, and for a moment, appeared an old, saddened, broken man. But the image was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"And the warlock?"

"Wounded, but Merlin lives."

"HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? CAN'T HE DIE?"

Arthur flinched at his father's outburst, fingers gripping each other tightly behind his back. The king took a deep breath and continued in a calm voice. "We keep pushing until we near their camp. I don't care how long it takes. "

"But the men, my lord, they will tire—"

"-So will our enemies. We outnumber them five to one, and still we can call reinforcements."

"So many men will die—"

"There are casualties in war, Arthur, you'd do well to learn that," Uther opened the flap of his tent and looked out. "The warlock will die. When he does, the druids will be leaderless and the dragons will have no cause to fight. All that will be left is a ramshackle army with a fool for a king."

The prince cleared his throat. "If you kill Merlin, you'll have Morgana to reckon with—"

Pain flashed in Uther's eyes and he turned to his son. "When he dies, she will see her folly. She will come back to us."

"She loves him—"

"NO, SHE DOESN'T! MORGANA IS ENCHANTED! SHE WOULD NEVER BETRAY ME LIKE THAT!"

"Father—"

"Arthur, my son," The king walked over and put a hand on the prince's shoulder, and Arthur was surprised to see tears in his father's eyes. "There is something I must tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago…."

**Ok. This is, I think, the halfway point and dlfjdkfjkdsjfkdsjfdsj ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS I LOVE YOU ALL!**

**seriously, every review means so much and gahhhhhhhh I love them. **

**So since this is the halfway point, I wanted to ask you all something. How is the story so far? Is it beginning to get dry, or boring, or is the quality beginning to lack? What do you guys want me to add, subtract? What do you want more of, less of? Please? Any word is amazing, even if it is "ZANE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO THIS STORY IT SUCKS GO FIX IT"**

**Another note, you may not have another chapter for another two week period. I'm going on a service trip to Nepal (GOING TO SEE THE HIMALAYAS) so I may be a bit busy prepping next week. However, if I have the chance, I'll be sure to update. It's not a cliffie, see, I am kind unlike many other writers (you know who you are). **

**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING AND REVIEWING! **

**-ladywarlock**


	17. Bittersweet Blood

**Hello, tonight's the night before my trip to Nepal (mini-scream) and since I finished packing early I thought I'd post this chapter. Chances are you won't be getting another chapter for two weeks I think, it'll depend how fast I can get back to writing after the trip! **

_**Hardest of Hearts: Florence + the Machine**_

**Warning: Violence and (Chaz, I hope you're pleased)**

**I hope you like it!**

"Focus."

"I am focusing!"

"Not hard enough."

"I'm going to kill you," Morgana growled, eyes furrowed in concentration.

"To do that you'll have to focus!" Merlin replied in a sing-song voice, but the smile disappeared as he was blasted across the clearing.

Morgana walked towards him with a smirk, hips swaying ever so slightly.

"How's that for—"

"Again," he leapt to his feet and brushed down his clothes.

The sorceress scowled and threw him a sword instead, the warlock catching it clumsily.

"I've done my practice, time for yours. You are still a horrid swordfighter, Merlin, despite the fact that you've been fighting in a war." She lunged and he sidestepped, replying with his own strike which she parried unflinchingly. "If you're to obtain any serious injury it will be at the tip of a sword."

"That's not true, we've seen how dangerous arrows can be. And I have an equal chance of being kababed with a spear, cleaved in two by an axe, getting my head sheared off by a mace-" Their blades locked and they were, for a moment, impossibly close -so close that Morgana could count his eyelashes. "…Or I could be finished off by a kiss from a beautiful girl."

Morgana smiled, lifted her knee, and hit him in the groin. Merlin fell to his knees spluttering, face red.

"I've told you time and time and time again never to get distracted by your opponent, but you seem to cling to this habit of not listening to me." She knelt down and looked at him, his eyes screwed shut in pain. "Enough for one day?"

He nodded with a squeak and Morgana laughed, putting a finger on his forehead and tipping him back. Merlin fell onto the wet ground without a sound, eyes still closed. After getting over her giggles, worry creased Morgana's skin.

"Come on, Merlin, I didn't hit you that hard," she leaned over him, worry widening her eyes. "Merlin?"

"Gotcha."

He pushed himself up and kissed her, pulling her down into the mud beside him. They tackled each other for a minute before he gained the upper-hand, pinning her arms above her head.

"What was that about not getting distracted by your opponent?"

"Seriously, Merlin, now I'm covered in mud—"

"Whatever, I win."

"Ehm."

Merlin scrambled off Morgana and got to his feet at Surevres's cough, the two young people straightening their backs and attempting to look official—failing miserably. Their hair was tussled, clothes dripping with mud, faces red from the chill air.

"The king wishes to see you both immediately."

The pair cast each other a look and rushed to follow Surevres to the large white tent. Inside they found the three other generals with Gaius, Edwin, and Phillip. The king himself was looking over a map spread out on a table, face drawn.

"My lord," Merlin and Morgana bowed their heads, Merlin scowling at Edwin's smile due to their appearance. "I'm sorry, my lord, we were training—"

"A great host has left Camelot's camp."

"A great host?"

"The whole camp is emptied." The tent grew dead silent, smiles disappearing. "They will be on us in two days, maybe less."

Morgana spoke, voice barely over a whisper, but still it sounded impossibly loud in the still tent. "This….this is a tactic Uther uses when he tires of battles and wishes to end the war. He sends his men to the enemy and orders them to keep fighting. They won't retreat, they won't rest. Not until they reach the citadel."

"But the casualties they'd suffer—" Merlin questioned, but Morgana's swift reply cut him off.

"Uther doesn't care for the lives of his soldiers. By now he thinks that we are weak enough that we won't be able to hold off his army. It's a ripe time for him to attack."

"What are the chances?" the king asked quietly, sitting down heavily and putting his face in his hands.

Morgana hesitated before answering. "This tactic has not failed him yet."

Everyone in the tent breathed out, slowly allowing the realization of their predicament to wash over them like the impending tide. It was Merlin who finally spoke, voice calm.

"We should take the wounded back to the citadel, clear the camp. If we cannot stop them the least we can do is buy Gwen time to ready the city's defenses, get the people inside the citadel. We stand a better chance fighting at the castle—a siege on the citadel would wear Uther's men out. He would eventually have to call them off to rest."

"But then we would be trapped, there would be nowhere to go—"

"We don't have a choice," the king interrupted Surevres, straightening his back. "Tell every able-bodied man that we ride tomorrow at dawn, better put as much distance between the citadel as possible. Gaius, Phillip, empty the hospitals and have the dragons help you carry the wounded back to the citadel. It would be better, too, if the healers went with them. There will be no more need for them here." The king looked at everyone in the room. "We'll fight as one tomorrow, as one army. Druids and knights together as equals. Now rest, all of you, I expect you all to be seated beside me at the victory feast. I will see you tomorrow at dawn."

* * *

"Mordred."

The young druid turned around, face lighting up at the sight of the warlock behind him.

" Emrys."

"May I ask you a favor?"

"You saved my life a month ago-I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You know you can ask anything of me."

Merlin handed the druid a letter, smiling softly at the boy's confused look. "I want you to give this to my mother, she lives in Ealdor. Her name is Hunith. The road should be clear so you'll have no problems."

Mordred looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're sending me away…"

"Yes."

"But I want to fight—"

"There will be a time for that, but I couldn't bear it if you got hurt. You're still so young; you have a life ahead of you. Go, fall in love, live. If the battle should go ill, then at least you'll be left to lead those remaining."

"But, Emrys—"

"Mordred," the warlock smiled at the younger boy. "Please."

The druid was silent for a moment before embracing the older man tightly, eyes glazed over. "Take care of Morgana."

"You know I will."

* * *

Merlin stretched inside his tent, relishing the feeling of his soft tunic on his skin. He'd taken a quick bath, washing away the mud and grime of the day's excursions. Now he stood in the middle of the cloth-covered structure that had been his home for many months—tonight would be his last night there.

He didn't know what to do.

How do you sleep the night before a battle that may be your last? How do you sleep when you know hundreds march towards you, outnumbering you, coming with the sole purpose of spilling your blood and leaving your body to the vultures that will fly overhead?

Merlin walked over to his bedside table where Morgana's poetry book rested. It had been a month since the day at the battlefield, a month since his closest brush with dead. By now he and the Keeper of the Gate between the worlds should be great friends. He'd been reading the tome every night before he slept, and though he'd long since finished, he reread the poems Morgana marked as her favorites. He could almost find pieces of her buried in her favorite passages, as though the words had somehow pulled a part of her inside their ink.

The warlock lifted the book and lay back down on his cot, resting his head on the pillow and skimming through the pages, trying to ignore the sounds of the healers that were packing their things and traveling away, leaving the soldiers behind. He opened to one of the marked pages, reading the words, matched with beautiful images that stretched in and out of the penned letters.

_As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,_

_The happy winds upon her play'd,_

_Blowing the ringlet from the braid._

_She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd_

_The rein with dainty finger-tips,_

_A man had given all other bliss,_

_And all his worldly worth for this,_

_To waste his whole heart in one kiss_

_Upon her perfect lips._

"Merlin?"

He looked up to see Morgana at the door of his tent, looking hesitant.

"Morgana, come in," Merlin sat up, watching her as she came to sit next to him at the edge of the bed, their legs just barely touching. "It's late, what are you doing here?"

"I tried to sleep but all I saw were nightmares, even before I had fallen unconscious. I don't want to _see _this battle before it happens, I don't think I could bear seeing something terrible and knowing nothing I could do would prevent it."

The warlock nodded, looking at her intently. Reaching over, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, pushing it back behind her ear. She leaned in and placed a head on his shoulder, his own resting on top of hers. They stayed like that, in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's company.

"I'm afraid, Merlin."

"I never thought I'd hear those words pass your lips."

"Tomorrow we'll be fighting the last battle here on Camlann, and when the army is pushed back to the citadel, whether we defend it or not will decide the fate of magic. If Uther wins...I don't know what I'd do. "

"You have nothing to worry about if Uther wins, you'll be safe—"

"He'd kill me without a second thought -his ward, the sorceress."

"Despite all the terrible things he has done, I don't think he could kill you. He practically raised you."

"You don't know him."

"Perhaps, but I know enough about the bond between a guardian and their child to know that he would forgive you in a heartbeat, no matter what you did. If Uther does win, you'll be there to see it through, and perhaps you'll even be there to avenge Glendale when the time is right."

"Can you ensure that I will survive that long?"

"Yes," he replied, kissing the top of her head gently. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Nor I you."

Merlin smiled. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a target."

Morgana pulled back and looked at him, pulling him into an embrace, holding onto him tightly. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine."

When she moved back their noses brushed, faces touching for a moment. Their lips met softly, dry and chaste for a moment. Tentative and innocent, but the kiss grew wetter and more passionate as their arms wrapped around each other. Merlin's hand skimmed down Morgana's spine, her own hand gripping the front of his tunic tightly as she prompted him to deepen the kiss.

He bit her bottom lip gently and she shuddered, hand moving to bury itself in his still damp hair. Merlin's lips moved, tracing down her jaw and down her neck, pressing warm, feather-soft kisses over her pale skin, lingering where he could feel her pulse. Her other hand was not idle, moving to skim beneath his shirt as she reached upwards, his skin searing hot to her fingertips. Sliding up against him, Morgana felt Merlin shake under her hand, and his lips moved to draw over her collarbone.

She lifted his chin up, missing the feeling of his warm lips on her own, and Morgana leaned in and closed the gap between them, mouths opening as they shared the air from their lungs. Suddenly, she wanted him, more then she had ever wanted anything, or anyone—a kind of desperation or unquenchable thirst. Morgana reached down and pulled at his tunic, and he lifted his arms, allowing her to pull the shirt off his head. Her fingertips traced the muscles in his arms, the scars that littered his pale skin, looking darker in the light of the few candles that illuminated the small space. As her hand reached the brand on his shoulder, Morgana hesitated, racked with guilt for a moment. Sensing her discomfort, Merlin distracted her, deepening the kiss between them, gliding his teeth over her lips, sending shivers down her spine.

His hands moved to the back of her dress, running over the ribbons, undoing them quickly as Morgana's fingers began to skim just under his belt, prompting goosebumps wherever her soft touch landed. She helped him push the green dress off her shoulders, leaving her in a thin white shift, almost sheer in the lighting. Merlin's hands ran down her sides, his touch setting her on fire wherever he caressed, burning her through the flimsy fabric. He lifted her up gently, pulling her onto the bed, hovering over her and caressing the soft skin of her bared shoulder with his lips where the strap of her shift had fallen.

Gently, his hands glided over her breasts, and she gasped. He covered her lips with his own and his tongue prompted her mouth open, her breath unbearably sweet. She broke the kiss this time, moving to nibble at his jawline and neck. Morgana moved her hand around him, running her fingers over his shoulder blades and down his spine, moving then to his side where she began to play with his belt, toying in and out his trousers. Suddenly bold, she reached out and touched him through the fabric, and he moaned above her in response. But as much as it set them both aflame, it seemed to pull the warlock out of the haze, and he pulled back.

"Morgana, what are we doing?"

"Merlin—"

"We can't go so far."

"Tonight might be our last night—"

He silenced her with a hard kiss, and her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck, keeping him from pulling away.

"Tomorrow won't be our last day, and tonight is surely not our last night."

"And if it is?"

"Then it is."

Merlin reluctantly untangled himself from her, propping himself on his elbow as he looked down at where she lay beside him, hair raven black, long and surrounding her head like a halo. Skin pale but reddened where he had kissed it, lips swollen and eyes lidded.

"I love you, Morgana. I don't want this to be the night—"

"And I love you, Merlin. What are you waiting for? Our lives are as unpredictable as it is—"

"Hey." He kissed her chastely, smiling when he pulled away after she attempted to deepen the kiss. "Give me something to live for."

"Fine," she propped herself on her elbow, eyes twinkling in the dim light. "When this war is over, promise that we can be together, totally and completely. I want you to trust me as much as I trust you—with everything."

"Promise."

"I plan to keep you to that oath—"

"And I plan on fulfilling it," he said with a smile, leaning in and kissing her again.

"Then we have struck a bargain."

Morgana moved in and lay on his shoulder, lying on her stomach, arms wrapped around his chest. He kissed her head gently and rubbed her back, fingers moving up and down. _What did I ever do to deserve her?_he thought as she sighed, nuzzling against his skin and breathing him in. Merlin reached over and covered them both with the blanket that had been pushed aside, and enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed up against his chest, legs intertwined. They stayed like that until dawn, listening to the others breath and heartbeat, never quite falling asleep.

* * *

_To kill him you must render his magic useless. Without it he's just another man. You cannot fail me._

Arthur shook his head, eyes focused ahead of him, his father's voice whispering in his head. He road forward, at the front of a vast host, covered in shining chainmail and a thick red cloak emblazoned with the emblem of a kingdom that might someday be his. But he felt naked. Bare and unsure as the leader of a numberless army, and though it might be his nerves playing with him, images of Gwenivere slipped in his mind. Gwenivere, Merlin, Morgana laughing. Somehow they had ended up at the opposite sides of the chessboard, and he knew it was his fault.

_You cannot fail me._

He approached the gorge Morgana had torn into the earth a month before. Since that day the armies had fought with arrows and spears flung over the empty space, all the while Camelot's army prepared bridges to close the gap. As his army approached, Arthur saw that Glendale's force was waiting for them.

Their whole army had arrived, but still they seemed pathetically small in number. Arthur was surprised to see the king riding at the front, beside him his generals and advisers. And of course, Merlin and Morgana rode side by side, the warlock riding an ash gray horse, the sorceress a brilliant white steed.

"_Arthur, give it back!" She squealed, jumping up and down, but still he raised his hand higher._

"_Take it from me, come on, Morgana!"_

"_She's mine, Arthur! Boy's don't play with dolls."_

"_But she's very pretty, what if I want her now?"_

"_Arthur!"_

The prince blinked back the memory, watching with narrowed eyes as Merlin and Morgana dismounted, walking over to the edge of the gorge. They knelt before the edge, a length away from each other. They were a frightening sight -Arthur had never seen them fight together before. Morgana wore leather armor, black and tight against her skin. Merlin was dressed similarly, both wrapped in black cloaks, armor plating their shoulders. He could feel his men behind him stir at the sight of them together, the most powerful sorcerers in the seven kingdoms before them. Pale skin stood out shockingly with raven hair, lithe frames exuding a power that all could feel, as though their magic was playing off the others, electrifying the air.

"Brace yourselves!" Arthur shouted as the pair began chanting lilting words.

Their words rose in volume and power, seemingly echoing around them from every corner of the vast plain, distorted and strange. Then, all of a sudden, their palms hit the ground and the earth began to shake. The gorge began to close shut, but from the empty space leapt great creatures. Beasts forged by the breath of the Old Religion, hide made from shifting rock, molten lava dripping from their mouths as they roared out of nightmares and into reality. Their heads were those of a goat with two curled horns as sharp as swords, but slowly the head turned into the body of a lion whose fur shifted and stirred as though forces were battling beneath its skin. The forelegs were that of an eagle, talons black and cruel, the hindlegs that of a horse. Its tail shifted into the body of a snake, scaled emerald and blue, laced with golden flame, ending in a large head that hissed and spat venom. As the creatures raised their heads, men screamed as faces appeared from the base of their throats, a third face of a lion that roared with blood red eyes.

They had called upon the last of the morticoms, creatures King Uther had trapped deep within the caverns of the earth.

Until now.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" the prince shouted, unsheathing his sword and spurring his steed forward. Moved by their commander's strength, the knights followed him.

* * *

Merlin and Morgana still kneeling on the ground, eyes blazing gold, the rest of Glendale's army surged forward as the gorge was sealed shut with a thundering boom. The morticoms sped before them, impossibly fast as they slammed into Camelot's front line.

Merlin caught his breath, turning to look at Morgana as he shuddered with the power that painted his veins gold. Before they rose, the pair chanted out again, voices rising over the din of battle. A great wind filled the plain, howling with the screams and roars of war. Lightening clapped overhead, hitting the scarlet army and turning dozens into ash, leaving craters in the once barren plain.

The sorcerers rose to their feet and mounted their horses, spurring them so that they raced into the battle side by side, eyes burning.

"_Forbearne_!" Morgana screamed, and spears flying towards them turned to dust. Merlin raised his palm, vaporous blue enveloping the battlefield every time Arthur let loose streams of arrows into the air.

The warlock's horse fell on its knees with a screech as one of its forelegs was hacked off, and Merlin tumbled on the bloody ground. Quickly, he leapt of his feet and kicked his nearest attacker in the chest, sword already dripping rubies. He ripped off his cloak and raced forward with the other foot-soldiers as Morgana rode beside him, her blade felling the riders that attempted to trample the knights and druids on the ground.

* * *

"Arthur!"

The prince fell to the earth at Percival's warning cry, a morticom leaping over him. It turned around, hooves and claws skidding across the bloodied field as it turned back to him.

"TO ME!"

Nearby knights quickly moved into a shield formation as the creature attacked again. The snake head hovered them, and striking the covering shields in an attempt to tear the throat of a soldier. Its attacks left gaping dents in the iron, and as it came close Arthur lowered his shield and sheared the head off with a single fluid motion.

The remaining two heads screamed in agony as the third fell to the ground, still writhing until a nearby soldier hacked it to pieces. Gold blood dripped down Arthur's skin and armor, cold determination written on his face as he roared an order to the available archers. Shafts collectively peppered the creature's skin, and its screeches deafened those nearby until the prince slid beneath it, stabbing it below where its heart beat. Emerging covered in shimmering gold, burns riddling his bare skin, Arthur rose to his feet as the morticom fell dead behind him.

* * *

Raging for hours, sweat cleaned Merlin's face from blood as he continued to press with Glendale's soldiers. The last morticoms were weakening, their dead brethren's blood melding into the scarlet that wounded and slaughtered knights left behind.

Day turned to night, fires leaping into the midnight sky as the armies remained locked tight, but Merlin began to feel them getting pushed back. He'd lost sight of Morgana in the din, but every so often he could feel her magic mingling with his own, a reminder that she was still alive and fighting.

He turned his head at the sound of a scream, watching in horror as a druid boy was decapitated before his eyes. Merlin's eyes blazed gold and the men around the body were torn to pieces by some invisible force, their blood spraying the warlock's face. Pain coursed through his veins as his magic weakened. He'd used too much.

Merlin coughed, straightening himself and thrusting his sword into a knight that approached him, pulling the blade out just as another knight burst into his vision. Ducking low, the warlock slit the man's throat, avoiding the mace that swung over his head.

He looked up as a spray of arrows rained down upon them, snapping his finger and the arrows and archers burst into flames. Screams tore through the sky, already thick with magic and smoke, but Merlin moved forward, unhindered by the bodies that littered the dark ground.

Entering a clearing filled with Camelot's soldiers that were advancing on weakening druids, Merlin lifted his hands up, sending the men flying, the warlock doubling over as the spell dizzied him. He rose just as a chainmail-clad knight attacked him. Merlin blocked the blow, vision clearing as he circled the man. They tested each other's blades, the sounds of smashing iron ringing in the warlock's deafened ears. The man faked left, and Merlin's sword moved to parry, only to leave the warlock's right side undefended. Slicing through the leather and chainmail, pain reddened his vision as the blade left a gash in his skin.

"You'd think you would have learned not to fall for that trick anymore."

Merlin's eyes met Arthur's as he moved his hand to cover the wound in his side, sword raised between them.

"What, can't blast me across the field this time?"

The warlock lunged forward and the two locked blades, the motion jarring the men's shoulders. Screams and roars seemed to die around them as they pulled back, circling each other once again. This time it was Arthur's turn to start, the pair moving back and forth, as though alone, doing their best to avoid the bodies that turned from men into obstacles beneath their feet. Merlin ducked to the side to avoid Arthur's blow, raising the hilt of his sword up to punch the prince in the jaw. The other man reeled back, but came back even faster, his next blow nearly taking the warlock's arm off.

Scarlet clad knights approached the pair, attempting to take the sorcerer by surprise as he dueled with their prince. But a snap of his pale fingers sent them into the air, the use of his magic gripping him with vertigo. The prince's eyes narrowed and he lunged at his weakened opponent, and when their blades locked, Excalibur flew from Merlin's hand. Arthur took the opportunity to slam the hilt of his sword into Merlin's chest, and the raven-haired man clutched his throat as the breath was torn from his lungs, another kick in the gut sending the warlock to his knees before the prince.

It was as if time slowed as Arthur leveled his sword to Merlin's throat, the pair breathing heavily as they captured each other's gaze.

"Go ahead, kill me. Kill me and this war will finally be over. Your father's war on magic will be won," Merlin rasped bitterly, eyes clouding in pain as it became harder to breathe. "The druids, without me at their head, will flee to the woods. The king will be executed, and the soldiers chained. The dragons will hide in the mountains, chased and cursed by all who walk the land, and there, in the darkest caverns of the earth they will dwell until they fade into thought and time, written and scorned into legends that will turn to fantasies, the last of them dying forgotten in the corners of the world. Lancaster Wood will burn as your father cleanses the land of magic, and those sorcerers who found sanctuary there will be hunted down, the sky stained black as smoke from the pyres blanket the heavens. Morgana will join them, her beauty fading into the flames, the terrible sorceress who would fight to the ends of the earth until she reaches that end and finds no one there at her side. And Gwen—" Arthur stiffened. "She will be stripped of her title, her family, her home, and if she doesn't share her father's fate, she will be imprisoned or banished, the rest of her life lived in some foreign land as a servant to a nameless master, until the years of her life are utterly spent, and she dies alone, plagued with dreams of what could have been. And you, you'll rule a land that stretches to both sides of the horizon, and Camelot will be strong and unchallenged and everything your father hoped for will come true. But you will only be a hollow shell with a crown, an echo of your father's great glory, and your sons will share the same fate until your line fades away, long forgotten by the generations of tomorrow. So do it, kill me and end this war, kill me and create the world you were raised to build."

With that Merlin closed his eyes, the smallest tear leaking from beneath his lashes.

Arthur looked down at him, his sword cutting into the man's pale flesh, leaving behind streams of scarlet. The warlock, on his knees before him, his great foe at his mercy, wounded and bleeding, armor torn and stained, hands useless at his side, his magic too weak to protect him. His raven-black hair was tussled and messy, those eyes that were months ago twinkling with mischief, closed, and the prince knew that if he were to look into their bottomless cobalt depths he would see nothing but pain, horror, and sadness.

_War has made shadows of us all._

One lunge and this war would be over, the smallest step would spill this man's blood onto the ground to seep into the earth, Arthur and his kingdom crowned victor to a war as old as the land.

_You cannot fail me._

The prince took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swung the sword.

"MERLIN!_ NO_!"

**First time I've ever written anything remotely sexual, so I would love it if you guys gave me some advice and tips (there will be plenty more in the following chapters-that is if Merlin lives). **

**I guess your reviews may keep his life in the balance :P**

**The poem is **

SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE  
A FRAGMENT  
by  
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

**Good bye lovelies! I will see you once I return! **

**Reviews are made of rainbows and sunshine and rewarded with internet-cookies (*wink wink* *nudge nudge*)**


	18. Drumming Noise

**HELLO EVERYONE GUESS WHO'S BACK! You won't believe why I wasn't online for so long-it's a long story and so I'll put it at the bottom of the chapter. I'll not keep you from reading the chapter for any longer!**  
**I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!**

_**Hymn for the Missing: Red (by the way, their whole album is Mergana)**_

"I'm alive."

The words were the first that came to Merlin's dazed mind, and he jumped up only to fall back at the vertigo and splitting headache that accompanied the movement. A warm hand helped him back up after he swallowed the nausea, the feeling in his numb limbs returning with every breath of air. Heart pounding, he turned to see Morgana at his side, forehead creased with worry but eyes flooded with relief.

"Water," he croaked, and she handed him the glass at his bedside. Merlin gulped it down quickly, coughing, lungs still riddled with smoke.

"Merlin—"

"Arthur. He saved my life."

Morgana froze, looking at him with widening eyes.

"Sorry?"

"He had me at his mercy and he spared my life."

"He smashed your head with the hilt of his sword! He left you unconscious on a raging battlefield where you were sure to perish if I hadn't seen what happened and borne you back to the citadel safety."

"But still, he could have taken my head off with ease, instead he rendered me simply incapacitated."

"It was because he couldn't kill you. He was weak."

"I know what was in his eyes," Merlin snapped, eyes flashing gold in anger. "And Arthur is not weak, he would have killed me if he'd wanted to and yet he didn't."

Morgana's eyes narrowed, but her response was cut off by the sudden opening of the door.

"My lord, my lady," the soldier breathed, giving them each nods to the heads before continuing. "The king's regiment has just arrived in the castle and our lord is grievously wounded. "

The sorcerers said nothing, Merlin jumping to his feet as though not previously wounded, and together they ran past the soldier and into the hallways of Glendale's citadel. Injured men and women lined the sides of the walls, healers rushing to and fro like bees. Through the windows the occasional burst of light illuminated the bustling corridors, tell-tale signs of the war raging just outside.

They reached the hall leading to the king's chambers breathing heavily, skidding around the corner only to be stopped dead in their tracks by an anguished scream. Merlin looked at Morgana with wide eyes and they continued, slamming the doors open.

They were too late.

Merlin raced over and wrapped his arms around Gwenivere before she fell to the floor, reaching towards her father's bloodied form on the bed before them. Gaius, arms up to his elbows stained scarlet, reached over and drew the pristine white cover over the king of Glendale's mutilated face.

"FATHER, NO!" Gwenivere screamed hoarsely, writhing in Merlin's strong arms as he muttered soothingly in her ears, trying to no avail to calm his grieving friend.

Morgana touched the princess lightly on the cheek, muttering a calming spell. Gwen quieted in the warlock's arms, tears still cascading down her caramel cheeks. He lifted her up gently and nodded to Gaius, who stood prone by the king's bedside, Phillip's comforting hand on her shoulder.

Merlin and Morgana bore the princess to her room, the sorcerer waiting on the familiar balcony as Morgana spoke to the other girl inside and helped her to bed. The sound of a closing door startled Merlin from his dark thoughts and he turned to see Morgana walking towards him.

He opened his arms and she entered him, Merlin kissing her lips softly, an unspoken apology for the words earlier.

"She will rest now," Morgana said softly, looking out from the balcony.

"But for how long? You and I both know Uther will not obey the long standing codes of war and cease his attack to give us a day to bury the king; he will mount it now while we're still weak. His unending offense is proof of that." Merlin looked over the railing. Camelot's forces had not yet broken into the city. Instead they lay siege to it, those remaining of Glendale's army trying to protect the walls. Smoke and fire rose into the night sky, and Merlin could almost hear the screams from their perch on the highest towers of the citadel.

"Gwenivere is queen now."

Merlin turned to look at Morgana with sad eyes. "It's a terrible way to come to the throne…."

"Do you ever wonder why?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you ever wonder why it is that only the sons and daughters of kings may take the thrones, when those with greater power are forced to serve them?"

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Morgana?"

"Only that I question the way things have always been done. Why is it that the crown is only passed through bloodlines, when there might be others more capable of handling the pressures of the title?"

"You speak treason."

"There is no one here to hear me."

"Except me."

Morgana raised her eyebrows at him, anger flashing across those jade eyes. "Have you ever questioned why you bow before them? Not Gwenivere, but Arthur as well, all those kings you were forced to kneel to. Men and women you could kill with a whisper, and instead they expect you to bow before them. Why is it that the power you wield is not more influential than the power they inherited?"

"I've never wanted people to bow before me, and anyway, it is not my place. I am a loyal servant to the crown, I do not wish it for myself."

"But why? Why must we bow before those who are weaker than us?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes further, feeling the anger rise to the surface of his skin. "Our gifts weren't given to us so that we may control people, that we may wield ourselves above them. That was never their purpose. We were created to maintain and keep a peace—"

"And yet we are the most powerful players in this war. The death of one of us would seal the fate of this very kingdom."

"Enough, Morgana, let us not speak of these things. Were we overheard—"

"What could they possibly do to us? They can't touch us, and they wouldn't dare—"

A large smash interrupted her words, and the two watched in horror as the great gates of Glendale shuddered under the strength of a battering ram.

"They're breaking in," Morgana murmured, and the two stormed back inside Gwen's chambers-only to find the princess dressed in her armor.

"Call for the generals and commanders to meet in the council chambers. Also call for every soldier not already fighting to meet in the courtyard before the citadel. Quickly, Merlin," Gwenivere ordered, adjusting the final latch on her gauntlet and leading the way out into the roiling halls.

The other council members were already in the chambers by the time they arrived, having received Merlin's urgent message, his words still echoing in their minds. Gwen nodded to them before opening a map of Glendale, speaking in a hurried voice.

"We don't have much time. There are four gates that Uther's men can and will break into, and I need each one defended. I need the army divided into three for each of the entrances closest to civilians. Have I any generals who could lead those forces?" Three hands raised and Gwenivere told them where to go before they ran out the doors and out of sight. "Merlin, I need you to station the dragons in the lower town and I need their help to both protect the citizens and get them out of town. Will you ask it from them?"

Merlin nodded, closing his eyes and putting a hand in his temple, trying to locate Kilgarrah's mind through the din of voices in his head.

**_Did you hear that, Kilgarrah?_**

**_Yes, young warlock, we've already begun._**

"It's done," Merlin told his friend, and Gwenivere nodded.

"I have one last favor to ask of you, old friend. Our army is thin, we haven't enough men to secure the fourth gate. Could you and Morgana hold Camelot's forces off before we can get you reinforcements? You will be getting the bulk of the army, so if it is too much…."

Morgana turned to Merlin with a smirk, eyes flashing gold. "I'm not feeling tired, you?"

"Not at all," the warlock replied with a grin, stretching his arms. "I'm not dead yet, may as well give it another shot."

Gwen rolled her eyes before smiling softly. "We'll get you reinforcements as soon as we can. If it gets to be too much, pull back. "

Morgana snorted. " Don't worry, Gwenivere, believe me when I say they are more frightened of us than we are of them."

"Then good luck," the princess whispered, eyeing Merlin with a worried gaze. He walked over and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Are you ok?"

"No—but there's no time for that now. I needn't remind you that I can't lose the both of you, not after…."

Merlin only winked at her and followed Morgana out the door to the largest of Glendale's four gates, magic already humming at the surface of his skin.

* * *

Uther stroked the grains of his makeshift throne softly, sitting regally in his large tent.

"My lord, we have him here," a soldier called, ducking his head through the door flap. The king only gestured, straightening himself in the small throne as the two guards came in, dragging between them a man with matted blonde hair.

"Is what they say true?" Uther asked, his voice giving way to a deathly silence.

"Father—"

"ANSWER ME SIMPLY. Did you, or did you not spare the life of an enemy?"

Arthur looked up at his father, a small trickle of blood running down his forehead and across his bruised face. "I did not spare the life of an enemy. I spared the life of a friend."

Uther was on his feet in a heartbeat, and Arthur's head snapped to the side. The seal that he was to inherit sliced open his cheek, and the prince thought this must have been how Merlin felt all those months ago. He resisted the shudder that rose up from his belly and did not react.

"How could you? My own son, betray me to the enemy."

"But are they our enemies, father? They were willing to strike a truce with us and we deceived them. This war goes against everything Camelot was built upon."

"They have harbored and encouraged sorcery—"

"How can you damn those with magic when your own daughter wields it?"

Uther raised his hand, nearly hitting his son again, eyes blazing. "Hold your tongue, boy!"

"What?" Arthur mocked tauntingly, leaning forward against the arms of the guards. "Is the mighty Uther of Camelot afraid for the world to discover that the great sorceress keeping him from his long awaited victory is actually the bastard daughter he denied the throne?"

"How DARE you."

"How dare I? Morgana was cast away like a ragdoll as a child, led to believe she was an orphan, forced to grieve the loss of two parents when her father was too much of a coward to accept her as his own. She should have been raised a princess, not the king's orphan ward, condemned to years of loneliness when she actually had a family who could have eased her suffering."

"I loved Morgana like a daughter. I spared her no expense—"

"But you kept her identity a secret. I was her brother and I didn't learn the truth until I was faced with her betrayal, and her betrayal was for good reason. You could never have let Morgana be named a Pendragon for you could never let there be a chance for a daughter of Vivienne to take to throne, because then the whole world would know that Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot and enemy of the Old Religion, had once fallen in love with a sorceress. Well now look what your secrets have wrought. Your world is crashing down. You think Morgana will spare you when you tell her the truth behind her birth? To tell her would only thicken her desire for your blood."

"I have never wronged her—"

"You murdered and persecuted her kind! You drowned her visions with sleeping drafts and swept away her fears with a cold hand. You let her suffer in silence, terrified of the truth and terrified of you. She was a rose in a nest of vipers - are you surprised she grew thorns?"

"Have you gone mad, Arthur? You have played as much a part in this war as I have."

"And now I denounce it. Stop this, Father. Their king is dead, you have left a daughter orphaned and have laid siege to an innocent citadel. Turn away, end this now. Do not press forward, it only ends in death."

Uther was silent for a moment, studying his son's face before speaking again. "This is because of her, isn't it? Gwenivere….the child of the fool king. You harbor feeling for our enemy's daughter, how quaint. I've told you time and again to rule with your head, Arthur, not your heart. Now you have the final proof. When this war is over, you will understand. Camelot always comes first."

The prince struggled against the arms holding him in place, voice becoming desperate. "Can you not see the folly in this, Father? Your own children have turned against you, what more proof do you need? Please, Father, please...don't do this."

"Someday you will understand, Arthur, what it means to be king. But now is not the time. Stay now in shackles and await my return."

"Your return?"

"I will take your place in the siege, and I will run my sword through the heart of the warlock who is so dear to you that you betrayed your father for his survival. And when I have brought Glendale to its knees I will bring _Gwenivere_ here and make you watch as I slit her throat. Before the week is out all that was left of the House of Leodogrance will be gone, and the Pendragons will finally rule a kingdom fit for their name."

"No, Father, don't do this!"

"Take him away."

"NO, FATHER!" Arthur screamed as the soldiers pulled him out of the room, his boots leaving trail marks in the soft soil.

Uther shook his head. _The young are foolish and commanded by love; someday he will understand that I was right._

_This war is almost over._

* * *

"Here," Morgana tossed a sword to where Merlin sat, buckling the gauntlets to his forearms. He tested the balance and for a moment mourned the loss of Excalibur on the battlefield, but the warlock didn't dwell on it and sheathed the worn sword into the scabbard at his side. It would have to do.

"I'm ready," he called to her.

"As am I."

"Then let's go."

The two made their way towards the gate, the crowds thinning out as they approached the near deserted local. Bodies already littered the streets, scattered about like the toys of a careless child, and Merlin and Morgana did their best to move them gently out of the way so they wouldn't be mutilated in the battle that was sure to come.

And then they waited.

Silence fell as the pair stood before the great gates, bows strung at the ready—they were attempting to minimalize their use of magic until it was absolutely necessary. A soft wind rustled their hair, caressing their bruised and cut skin like a gentle touch, soothing and smooth.

**BANG.**

The wooden doors shuddered in front of them, grains straining against the force on the other side. Merlin turned to Morgana, smiling at her softly and rubbing his hand against her own—simply a comforting touch. But the sorceress wouldn't have it, bringing him down for a passionate kiss before standing firm again, a twinkle in both of their eyes.

**BANG.**

By now they could hear the shouts from the other side. Uther must have ordered his men to remain silent to surprise their enemy, but he must not have factored Gwenivere's brilliance into account. The chains that were strung from the top to the bottom of the wooden face rattled against the assault of the battering ram, clanking noisily and echoing down the empty streets.

**BANG.**

All hell broke loose.

Camelot's forces surged through the smashed doors, but they slid to a halt when they saw the two figures before them. They had been prepared for a ragtag group of soldiers, bloodied and bruised, if not in high spirits. A force that would meet them head on. A force that would be easy to defeat.

But somehow the sight of only two made their blood curdle.

Morgana's hair was loose, falling about her like a raven halo, tangled and braided and long. Wearing worn silver plated armor over black leather, the sorceress looked worn but somehow even more terrifying, the brilliant red marring her ivory skin, tell-tale signs of the battles in which she had won and her enemies had lost.

Standing by her side, Merlin was a comparable sight. Drawn to full height, the warlock looked calm as the men roared inside his city's walls, long pale fingers caressing the grains of the longbow in his hand. He seemed unperturbed by their numbers, in fact they both did. As though they were here to welcome the men in, not keep them out. Both sides didn't move, the wind whistling softly between them as the soldiers waited for the sorcerers to retaliate.

Languidly, Merlin turned to Morgana and nodded. The pair raised their bows with ease, each notching three silver-tipped arrows and aiming them at the enemy. As one, they drew the heavy strings as easily as they would bend a twig, the powerful muscles of their backs and shoulders smooth and still. The six silver points gleamed like the eyes of a hawk, a hawk preparing itself to dive upon its unsuspecting prey.

Then they released them.

Camelot's men put up their shields, almost laughing. Six arrows?Is that all they could do?

Eyes burned gold and suddenly the arrows turned to spears set ablaze with blue flame, and when they collided with Camelot's shields, they brought forth explosions that blasted men several feet away and dismembered bodies, spraying the survivors with warm scarlet.

The unknown commander roared, and the knights ran forward towards the sorcerers. Merlin nodded at Morgana and went on the offensive, leaving her to deal with their defensive. He placed his palm to the ground, whispering a spell. The broken cobblestones rippled like a wave, knocking the soldiers off their feet. Then, with a second quickly muttered incantation, he made the ground like liquid, knights falling through the rocky surface as though it were quicksand.

Morgana deflected the arrows that came their way, snapping her fingers and sending them all back down to those who cast them. Shields were of no use as she increased their speed, the iron tips ripping through metal and flesh like parchment.

While the soldiers were still picking themselves up from the first onslaught of attacks, Merlin and Morgana joined hands, chanting into the night sky.

"_Ad cans aeris flamma, ut flamma ex animo hostium animi uastatione_!"

A wall of flame exploded between them and their enemies, except then the flame began to move. Taking the shapes of animals, the giant fires roared forward towards the knights, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Men screamed in terror as fire lions roared smoke, and birds forged of flame hurtled burning boulders from above.

But still Camelot's men moved forward, more men coming through the broken gates and flooding the courtyard. Exhausted of magic, Merlin and Morgana unsheathed their swords and stood back to back, fighting as one. Ducking, turning, spinning, parrying until their motions became dizzying as they fought against the incessant tide, the sorcerers lost track of the hours in the blood.

It was getting to be too much. Muscles burning, Merlin turned to look at Morgana. A long gash bled on her arm, various bruises and scrapes littering her face, but she seemed fine. Her jade eyes caught his own, and he grit his teeth and kept fighting, struggling against the pain in his leg where a sword had caught him.

A short scream sent him whirling around again, eyes widening with fury as he saw Morgana stumble, an axe embedded in her shoulder and gushing blood everywhere. Merlin roared, men around them sent across the courtyard as he helped her keep her feet, eyes burning gold as magic fueled his stamina. She was fighting in an instant, using her left hand instead of her right. It was only by good fortune that the blow had been too weak to penetrate her armor any more than it did.

"Are you alright?" he called over the din.

"I'm fine," Morgana replied through gritted teeth, hewing a man's head from his shoulders, spraying the both of them with warm crimson.

However, the onslaught didn't stop, and Merlin finally felt fatigue closing in fast. That's when he turned around, looking here and there past the smoke and the magic that blurred his vision.

Then he realized there was no way out.

Camelot's soldiers had slowly but surely made it all the way around them, not even bothering to enter the citadel, instead remaining focused on the two sorcerers who fought in the center of the courtyard.

There was nowhere to retreat to.

Spears and swords raised, and Merlin and Morgana pressed closer and closer together, ceasing their fighting as they were encircled by hundreds of swords and spears pointed right at them.

And then there was silence.

Merlin waited for the feeling of all of those swords piercing through his body, and he encircled Morgana with arms, almost as though they could protect her in some way or form. But still the silence drew on. It was then that he realized that Uther must have ordered his men not to kill them, perhaps for the satisfaction of doing it himself.

The warlock looked down at his almost-lover with soft eyes, an idea lighting the brilliant blue.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Then hold on to me tightly."

Her hands gripped his waist, bringing their bodies close together in a tight embrace, their bodies fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. The warlock looked to the sky, beginning to chant a spell under his breath so the soldiers wouldn't notice as they waited for Uther to make his way towards them.

Morgana caught sight of Camelot's king from the corner of her eye, tightening her grip on Merlin's body as he made his way through his knights, sword drawn. She turned to the warlock, closing her eyes and listening to his voice murmer out the words of an unfamiliar spell. His body grew warmer and warmer and warmer as the power rushed through his veins, painting his blood gold as he called on every atom of strength he had left. As he neared the end of his chants, Uther only a yard away, Morgana tucked her head in the crook of his neck and buried her face there, taking in the scent of him through the smell of blood and iron that lingered on his bare skin due to his months at war. She could feel his pulse, quickening, quickening, quickening, as he called on his magic.

_The two sorcerers who faced had faced an entire army_, Morgana thought to herself. _Not a terrible way to die._

But it seemed that Merlin had other ideas.

The final word tore from his lips with a cry and the ground began to rumble and shake, rocks falling from the walls of the citadel.

And then everything was consumed by a blinding light.

* * *

Gwenivere looked up from where she was fighting in the main courtyard. In fact, everyone looked up at the boom that rattled the earth beneath their feet, and at the bright light that rose from the ground and engulfed the world to each edge of the horizon in a split second.

A light that came from Merlin and Morgana's side of the battle.

Calling out, the princess turned around and ran towards them.

* * *

Morgana coughed in the darkness, dust and pebbles falling from her mouth. She was suffocating, under something warm and heavy that constricted her breath. Hearing nothing but a loud ringing in her ears, the sorceress shifted and struggled underneath the weight above her. Suddenly, she heard a groan.

_Merlin._

She struggled, finally managing to roll him off of her onto his back, taking fresh air into her lungs. But before she could turn to see if he was alright, her sight caught the destruction he had caused.

Every building around them was decimated to rubble, the tallest walls of the citadel cracked and broken. Large boulders dug craters into the earth and littered the ground, rendering the once flat surface of the courtyard unrecognizable. Here and there lay red cloaks, torn and frayed and dirtied in the collision, and slowly the people in them began to shift.

Morgana turned her eyes towards Merlin. He lay on his back, winded, eyes open but glazed in pain. He was struggling to breathe, so she gently pulled him seated upright, rewarded with wheezing coughs as he attempted to clear his lungs of smoke and dust. When she pulled back her hand, Morgana froze.

It was covered in blood.

She moved her gaze to his back, letting out a pained cry at the state of it. He had shielded her from the blast with his own body, thus his back was torn ragged and bruised by the rubble that had fallen all around them. Morgana looked around and found a bloodied Camelot cloak with no owner to it, and she gently wrapped it around his back to keep it somewhat protected.

Around them, their enemies were slowly getting to their feet and approaching. Stumbling through the fields of rocks, they raised their swords to deal the final blows, the groans of their comrades setting fire to their already boiling blood, this time not bothering to heed their captain's commands. Morgana helped Merlin to his feet and the two of them picked up the nearest swords they could find, clinging to each other and trying to use the weathered iron as a protective barrier between them and their innumerable enemies. A wall of red rose to meet them, but before Camelot attacked, Gwenivere burst from within the citadel with a battle-cry, behind her Gwaine, Edwin, Surevres, and all the soldiers they could spare.

The knights turned to meet the new threat as the playing field began to even out, and Morgana couldn't help but smile.

"About time!" Merlin shouted coarsely to Gwaine as the two finally fought together side by side.

"We were a bit held up!" the knight responded with a laugh, and the two leapt into battle with newfound confidence.

Magic was blasted across the field with the arrival of the druids, the sorcerers using the rocks around them as weapons, hurtling them to their enemies to break bones and send people flying. More and more soldiers poured in from both sides, and the once desolated courtyard became a vicious battlefield.

Perhaps, just perhaps, they may win this battle yet.

* * *

Merlin swung his sword and took the head off his nearest opponent, ignoring the pain in his back as he struggled against the knights of Camelot. He'd lost sight of Morgana in the crowd, and when he had the chance he strained his neck to see if he could catch sight of her, but he was never successful. Worry coursed through his veins, and the weakness of his magic left a gaping hole in his chest as his mightiest weapon was denied him due to fatigue.

A knight roared into his vision and the warlock quickly engaged him, parrying the blow quickly and jabbing out his blade to stab the man across him. The soldier fell to Merlin's knees with a groan, blood spurting from his mouth as his life fled him.

Then a magnificent pain ripped across his vision, and he coughed as he felt something run through his chest. Merlin looked down with darkening eyes at the blade that jutted out from his abdomen, sliding through his ribs.

The warlock froze.

He felt suffocated, and even as he tried to breathe he felt oxygen evade him. A rough kick sent him sprawling across the ruined cobbles, and Merlin let out a ragged cry as the still embedded sword was slid from his body. Pulling himself off his stomach and onto his back, the warlock shuffled backwards on his elbows to the nearby citadel wall. He leaned against it as best he could so he could look his opponent in the eye, black spots dancing across his vision.

Uther Pendragon had a grim smile on his face as he stalked his enemy, sword raised and dripping blood. Admittedly, stabbing his enemy from behind was not the most honorable way to win a war, but the king saw no reason to show any respect to those who wielded the power of the Old Religion.

And oh how the mighty had fallen. In that moment his great foe turned into the boy that he was, struggling to keep himself propped up against the cracked wall of his citadel, blood seeping down his back and puddling around him.

The warlock coughed, rubies trickling down his lips—a tell-tale sign that death was not far. For sure the reapers that roamed the courtyard would soon find his fading light, and finally take the soul of the sorcerer that had denied the Pendragon king what he most desired—the end of magic in the seven kingdoms.

Walking quickly forward, the Pendragon raised his sword in the air to deal the final blow, to slit the throat of a man who had continually evaded death.

The cool touch of a blade on his neck stopped him.

"Step away from him," Morgana said softly to her guardian, voice laced with menace.

But the king wouldn't have it.

He swung his sword down quickly; however, it never reached its target.

Uther Pendragon screamed in agony and fell to his knees as his sword-arm was severed from his body, the limb falling limply with the sword still tight in its grip right next to the fallen warlock, the blood mingling with Merlin's own. The king of Camelot wheezed in pain as he struggled to keep the world in focus, looking up at his ward with too bright eyes.

"Morgana," he whispered. "You do not hate me."

"You cannot begin to know how much I hate you."

He looked up dejectedly at her, a salty tear running down his sooty cheek—whether from pain or sadness Morgana did not know. Nor did she care.

"Goodbye, Uther Pendragon," the priestess muttered, raising her sword high, but his words stopped her.

"You cannot kill me. Heaven would not grant entrance to a daughter who murdered her father."

The air left Morgana's lungs as though someone had hit her in the chest, and her eyes widened as a mixture of emotions flared across them. Finally, the emotions cooled and the jade turned to ice, a frostiness that spread to Morgana's silent reply.

"Then save me a seat in hell."

She swung the sword quickly, so quickly that his head remained attached to his body for a moment, a look of shock plastered on his bloodied features. Then it toppled, rolling to her feet, and Morgana felt an overwhelming nausea as the unseeing eyes stared up at her. Accusing, condemning, agonizing.

A whooshing sound seeped in through from the sound of the blood roaring in her ears, accompanied by the feeling that she was hit. She saw Merlin struggle to rise, failing as he fell back, screaming her name in both warning and agony.

The arrow had embedded itself below her collarbone, knocking the breath that had begun to fill her lungs again. Morgana stumbled to her knees, one trembling hand on the shaft as she looked down at it, then at Merlin with wide eyes. His mouth was open in terror and she could see him struggling to reach her, pain etched across his features. In the end it was she who crawled past the bodies towards him, and she pulled herself over his body to shield him from any further harm as the battle continued to rage around them.

His bloodied hand came to rest on her back, the arrow snapping between them as Morgana lay her head on his chest, her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. Yet the most frightening thing was not her own labored breath, but the sound of Merlin's heartbeat, a drum that should be beating fast but was instead beating slower and slower and slower.

Until it stopped altogether.

***takes a bow* Now that, ladies and gentleman, is what I call a proper cliffhanger. **

**SO WHY WAS LADYWARLOCK NOT ONLINE? Here's why:**

**I traveled to Nepal for a week which was amazing, I built a house for a poor village in the mountains, swam and took a safari with elephants, canoed during a thunderstorm with some crocodiles, and showered with buckets of icy cold water for a week. It was bloody brilliant. However my adventures gave me a very weak immune system and I'm actually still sick after all this time. I'm beginning to think the cough is permanent But I did not not update because I was sick, but because the compound where I lived blocked fanfiction. **

**Don't ask me how I'm on here now...all I'll say is that it's not strictly legal. **

**ANYWAYS. I hope you forgive me, I really was dying as well you know! All these brilliant fics were coming out and I couldn't review them (my foreign friend was copying and pasting new fic chapters on my email so I could catch up) but yeah I couldn't review! AND THANK YOU ARAMINA FOR YOUR SHOUTOUT IN YOUR AMAZING FIC! I LOVED IT BY THE WAY!**

**As always, I ask that you review. If you don't I assume the chapter was not good and that makes me sad *tear* so review (under pain of death). **

**MY NEXT UPDATE WILL HOPEFULLY BE SOONER THAN THE LAST IF THIS METHOD OF GETTING ON REMAINS SOLID SO CROSS YOUR FINGERS**

**I LOVE YOU ALL**

**GOODBYE**


	19. Storm Clouds

**Hello my little lovelies, I hope I didn't make you wait too long!**

**_Nothing and Everything: Red_**

**I hope you like it!**

_His bloodied hand came to rest on her back, the arrow snapping between them as Morgana lay her head on his chest, her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. Yet the most frightening thing was not her own labored breath, but the sound of Merlin's heartbeat, a drum that should be beating fast but was instead beating slower and slower and slower._

_Until it stopped altogether._

* * *

Morgana pulled herself up, looking down at Merlin's ashen face. Her hair created a curtain around them, and she hovered breaths away from his face.

"Merlin?" she whispered, her hands beginning to tighten their grip around him. "Merlin?"

The sorceress cried out, beginning to shake him. But still he lay under her fingers, limp and terribly broken. Though soldiers moved around them, engaged in deadly dances with the enemy, their screams loud and ragged, Morgana could not hear them. She could hear nothing but the absence of a familiar heartbeat, the stillness of a chest that once rose with every breath.

"Merlin, Merlin, come on. Open your eyes for me. MERLIN!" Tears ran salty down her cheeks, leaving trails in the blood that was sure to never wash off. They fell slowly onto Merlin's face, and Morgana kissed them away. She kissed his head, his cheeks, sobbing as she tried to pry open those cool lips. Blowing her own breath into his mouth, the sorceress tried to force air into his deflated lungs, pulling back and kissing him deeply as he didn't respond. He tasted of blood.

"MERLIN. NO!" Her scream was high and ragged, a sharp knife in the heart to anyone who heard it. She pulled herself up and gently laid his head on her lap.

"Please," Morgana begged softly, her body shaking, wilting as those bruised eyelids refused to open, as that drum refused to beat. "Don't leave me. Merlin, NO!"

The earth trembled with her broken cries as her eyes glowed gold, magic returning to her veins as the priestess screamed her sorrow into the sky.

"_Ic ðe ðurhhæle ðinu licsar mid ðam sundorcræft ðære ealdan æ. Drycræft ðurhhæle ðina wunda ond ðe geedstaðolie!"_

Morgana felt the magic leave her in a flood, using every ounce she had as she cried out the words. Merlin was covered in a white glow, but when the light receded nothing changed. He still lay there, his face too pale, blood oozing from out of his armor, a scarlet that stained her hands.

A sob wrenched out of the sorceress's blood red lips, and the heavens above began to rumble. Soft rain fell around them, as though her tears had reached and now dripped from the gathering clouds. Morgana pulled Merlin closer to her body, bending over his head and kissing his lips as she moaned her pain into his skin.

"Please," she whispered, following the desperate word with every healing spell she knew. His voice whispered in his head, memories that she clung to as tightly as she clung to his bloody body.

"_We all die, have a written time for us to depart this world. That's simply the way of things. We can try to prevent death, but sometimes it's inevitable," Merlin took her chin and forced her to look up at him. "You mustn't blame yourself, Morgana."_

The sorceress looked up at the sky, her eyes burning like flames in the darkness.

"SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP US!" she screamed in agony. Not a physical pain, not like the pain that burned in her back, her arm, her collarbone. No, this was a pain that rippled down every molecule of her body, reaching into depths within her heart she never knew existed.

Morgana looked down at Merlin's still face, caressing it gently, leaving behind trails of blood in their wake. "Please," she muttered. "Please help him."

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes. The ground beneath him was hard, cold, and gray. Dust blew from where his breath upset the thin layer of soot before him, a tell-tale sign that no one had been here for a very long time. He pulled himself up, looking down at his body. He still wore his bloodstained armor, but he could feel no wounds. Gazing around him, the warlock took in where he was.

He was standing in a broken citadel, its walls jagged and laced with tendrils of creeping ivy. A great stone alter was stood at one end of the chamber, still tarnished a dark red. But his eyes barely took sight of these things, the cobalt blue fixed on a great chasm before him. It looked like a tear in the very fabric of time and space, suspended through an invisible veil in the middle of the chamber. It rippled like smoke yet seemed more solid. Through it he saw nothing but darkness, small flickerings of light wavering along its edges as though it feared to enter. Screams, pitched and agonized, sent shivers up his spine. Merlin looked around, trying to find whoever made the inhuman sounds.

"They are the screams of the dead, those who lie beyond the veil."

Merlin spun around. Now a woman stood before the tear, and the sight of her iced his blood. She was old, yet somehow ageless at the same time. Her face was terribly pale, eyes run through with blood as though she had been crying for a thousand days, and bruised black as though she had gone without sleep for a thousand nights. Her dress was torn and ragged, shifting and swaying with the breaths of an absent wind. The black of the cloth seemed to be alive, changing in the desire to capture the different shades of midnight.

"Who are you?" he asked with a shaking voice.

"I am the Caelich, the Gate Keeper between the worlds."

"Am I dead?"

She smiled. "Your time among men, Emrys, is not over...even if you want it to be."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I must warn you. The battle may be over, but the war has just begun. You think you know the prophesy, but you only know half of it. Arthur is the Once and Future King of Camelot, and together you are destined to build the land of Albion, a kingdom that has been long awaited by all. But that future is threatened. Another walks in your shadow, another's destiny haunts your step. Emrys, you may be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, yet there is one with strength enough to challenge you. She is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love. You are her destiny, and you are her doom."

Merlin walked forward, his skin tingling. "Who?"

"The witch, the Lady Morgana."

He took a step back, shaking his head as he was robbed of his breath. "No. I know her, she has a good heart. She..."

"The ancient prophesies speak of an alliance of Mordred and Morgana in evil. She cannot be trusted."

"You lie!"

"The prophesies do not lie. You are destined to build the land of Albion, and Morgana is destined to destroy it. I have warned you, Emrys. You cannot say that you didn't know of the danger when it comes. As the days approach to the crimson moon's eclipse, the characters of legend are beginning to emerge. Slowly, everyone is taking the path they were destined to take, and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"No! You have to tell me, you have to tell me how to change this!" Merlin cried out, but the Caelich was gone in an instant.

Darkness engulfed him and he knew no more.

* * *

Gwaine tore Merlin from Morgana's arms and he raced into the citadel. Morgana still knelt on the ground, looking down at her blood stained hands as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Kneeling before her, Gwenivere took the girl's face in her hands.

"Morgana? Morgana you must look at me."

Jade eyes met brown, and Gwenivere trembled at the terrible agony in their depths. "I must get you to a healer," she whispered.

Gently, Gwen helped Morgana to her feet, allowing the sorceress to lean heavily on her shoulder. A few guards by the door took the girl from her, one pulling Morgana into their arms and rushing down the hall with her.

Alone, the princess looked around. Camelot's men ran out the gates, the call that their king had fallen sending them back to their camp. Bodies littered the ruined courtyard, a soft rain washing the blood from the cobblestones and sending it slipping through the cracks in the stone. As she looked to the sky, a raindrop fell down her cheek. Gwenivere lifted a hand to wipe it away, but when her fingers came away they were stained with blood. Her own, Merlin's, Morgana's, an enemy's, she did not know.

Gwen fell to her knees, still and silent as the rain trickled down her armor. She looked at the bodies around her, some adorned in scarlet, some in black. Here and there lay the bodies of young men, all so very similar, who had killed each other in the name of kingdoms that wouldn't remember their names. Her eyes caught a body that lay several feet away from her.

The man's face was badly scarred, his brown hair plastered to his head with blood. Light blue eyes stared unseeingly up at her, blood trickling down his broken nose and split lip. Body folded beneath him unceremoniously, Gwenivere couldn't help but lean to the side and vomit and the sight of Edwin's lifeless form.

Who helped her to her feet in the end, she did not know, all she knew was that as they guided her inside her broken citadel, the rain began to fall harder, as though trying to wash away the sins of the dead.

* * *

No trumpets sounded that day. No music played, no children laughed. For who could smile while people cleared the bodies of the dead from the streets, their bloods leaving stains on the broken stone? Every room in the castle was filled as the citadel was turned into a hospital in the hopes that, perhaps, the reaper's toll would not be so swollen.

That day there was only silence, muttered words as both sides nursed their wounds. But always there was threat of further bloodshed as the scarlet of Camelot's banners rippled in the breeze right outside Glendale's gates.

Three days passed.

Then a week.

We chance upon the characters on this sunny day, Merlin seated in his bed, eyes blinking open tiredly. The sun shines warmly on his pale skin, and the warlock stretches, groaning quietly in pain as every muscle in his body protests at the minutest of movements. Looking to his side, Merlin looks to see a worn wooden cane propped up on his bed. Slowly, the sorcerer rises on shaking feet.

He is in his room, and for a moment he almost forgets that he hasn't been in here for so very long. The sketches of herbs, flowers, and spells still hang limply on his walls, his books still propped up neatly on an old bookshelf. As though he had never left. It even smells like home, of herbs and smoke and the lavender that Gaius always keeps growing in the windowsills.

Leaning heavily on the cane, the warlock opens his door and steps down into the main room. The sun shines through the windows, and Merlin looks to see Gaius standing near a table, mixing a potion. A familiar sight, Merlin lets comfort relax him and he smiles. He coughs.

Gaius spins to see him, face lighting up with both joy and concern. The old man is next to him in a moment, wrapping his arms around the boy tightly.

"Don't ever do that to me again. I fear my heart wouldn't be able to take it."

"I'll do my best. Where is Morgana?"

The physician pulls away with a knowing smile.

"When she isn't waiting at your bedside she's usually in the gardens."

"Has Arthur attacked yet?"

"No, we've heard no word from Camelot. And, Merlin," Gaius continued as the warlock slowly made his way out the door. "You missed the king's funeral, you should go speak with Gwen."

The warlock nodded and left, ambling through the halls. Several soldiers and druids cried out greetings, wishing him good health, and he replied to them with a twinkle in his eye—but he never lingered. Slower than he would have liked, Merlin reached the gardens.

He found her there, seated on a stone bench among the bountiful flowers. Butterflies fluttered in and out around her, one particularly brave sapphire specimen resting on her shoulder like a brooch. Morgana's eyes were closed, the sun dancing across her pearly skin and ruby red lips. But evidence of the war was clear on her features, a long scratch running from her eyes down her neck, her arm heavily bandaged and in a sling. Purple circles, as vivid as the deep violet toadflax flowers she stroked with a trembling finger, darkened her eyes, stark against the pale contrast of her skin. Bruises riddled up and down the flesh he could see, and Merlin felt his heart ache at the sadness that graced her every breath. Here though, in the garden where flowers reached towards the baby blue skies, it seemed as though time had stopped, as though all their woes were far gone...almost as though they were not in the midst of a war.

Merlin spoke softly, hoping not to startle her.

"Morgana."

She looked up, her jade eyes wide and bright. The two stared at each other for a long moment, lost in the depths of the other's eyes as emotions played across their gaze. Morgana slowly got to her feet, walking lightly towards him till they faced each other, inches away.

"I thought I lost you."

"Sorry, love, you can't get rid of me that easily."

Her lips pulled into a crooked smile, and she put a hair behind her ear, looking down. Merlin reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes again. Morgana's breath caught as he leaned forward and kissed her chastely on the lips, lingering there as the hand not holding the cane wrapped around her waist.

As they pulled apart, their noses touched, faces brushing against each other's softly. Not with a dark passion, but a love and a companionship and a trust that gently made its way through to hearts that were guarded by pain and sadness and terror. Her arms wound their way around his neck and she leaned on her tip-toes, holding him tightly against her. There was no need for words. And for a moment, together and close and pressed against the other, they felt the fear and the pain wash away in the light of the sun.

Merlin gently took Morgana's hand and together they made their way to the princess's room, Morgana quietly telling him what had happened. How Gwaine carried him into the healers and the seven dragons breathed their magic through his veins. How they had all watched him with worry for the rest of the night and most of the day until his heartbeat was comfortable in his chest. She spoke of how she had woken just before the funeral of the king, and the coronation of the queen. Gwen had wanted to wait for her farmboy, but the council had insisted on sending a message to the invaders outside their walls, to show them that they were still strong. No word had come from Arthur and his men, but whispers of a truce lingered in the air as the two new heirs took their respective seats on the throne.

When they reached Gwenivere's rooms, Merlin knocked on the wood.

"Come in," came a familiar voice.

The couple made their way into the chambers, finding Gwen looking over a worn map.

"Surevres, is that you-?"

A smile lit up the caramel face as Gwenivere took the sight of the two of them together, running over and wrapping her arms around the warlock.

"I have half a mind to slap you for all the pain you put me through but I think you are much too fragile for that now. Maybe later."

Merlin laughed. "Maybe later, your majesty."

Gwen scowled at him. "Barely a week of being queen and I already hate it because of the bloody formality that comes with the title."

"You'll get used to it."

The two fell into an awkward silence, those things that remained unsaid hanging thickly in the room. Gwenivere cast Morgana a look, and the other lady's eyes filled with knowing sadness. Catching their glances, Merlin turned from one to the other with naïve eyes.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

Gwen cleared her throat. "Merlin…there's something we need to tell you."

* * *

Surevres was paging through an old volume when Merlin entered a familiar room, having climbed the small winding staircase with difficulty. The warlock looked around the room, smiling as the old memories raced through his mind. Hearing the cane on the stone floor, the other man looked up.

"Merlin."

"Surevres."

Standing up, the sorcerer approached Merlin hesitantly, and for the first time ever, the two embraced. Red-rimmed eyes told the tell-tale story of a shared loss. Surevres pulled away and drew up a chair, motioning the warlock to sit down. When he did, the black-clad man began speaking in a soft voice.

"I remember the first day I met him. He was so badly scarred, and we were told it was because he tried to rescue his parents from the pyre. Perhaps it was this injustice that made him work so hard, that led him to meet his goal of becoming the most powerful among us. We were always at each other's throats." Surevres smiled. "Always yapping and criticizing at each other, but we loved each other, more than anyone else. I always thought that we would be bickering until we were old and gray and withered, but alas...it seems these dark times robbed me of my expectancies." He looked up at the warlock, eyes watering. "He loved you, you know. Thought you were a son to him, worried about you constantly."

"I know."

The two were silent. Merlin looked down at his scarred and calloused hands, swallowing back a stone in his throat. But when the tears began to fall, he didn't wipe them. He just let them spill down his cheeks, let them turn into broken sobs. Surevres put a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing as the warlock took the moment to mourn. To mourn Edwin, the king, the thousands who had died in the past months. The Caelich's words whispered in his ear as Merlin let the vulnerability show and crumbled against a destiny that was much too heavy for one boy to carry.

* * *

Arthur spurred his horse forward towards the tall walls, his men holding up white banners of truce. He buried within himself the sadness and horror of the past few days, the seal on his finger heavy and unfamiliar on his hand. They waited for a while, just outside the gates, the wind rippling his golden hair and cooling the effects of the warm sun. The flap of the banners and the shifting of the horses were the only sounds in the silence as they stood there.

Finally, the doors opened to reveal about ten soldiers and three familiar faces. Merlin and Morgana rode beside Gwenivere and the party approached Camelot's. Arthur took the time to look over each one of them.

Merlin looked exhausted. Dark circles and pasty skin told of his brush with death, Morgana looking the same. Gwenivere, too, appeared as though she hadn't slept for days. Red rimmed all their eyes, and Arthur gathered that he must look the very same.

"Your majesty," Arthur bowed his head respectfully as Gwen approached, but she denied him the same gesture.

"Why are you here, Arthur Pendragon?"

"I wish to end this war."

"You expect me to sign a truce with you after you stormed our lands and killed countless of our men? After you betrayed our trust when we tried for peace and instead received war?"

"What we did was wrong, and I do not ask forgiveness nor love in return. I merely ask for an end to the bloodshed. We will pay all the expenses we cost you in double, even if it means emptying out our treasury. Camelot only wants an end to this conflict."

"My lor—"

"Gwenivere," he said gently, and she met his eyes. We've lost our fathers, we are now king and queen of our lands. Why continue this bloodshed? Together, our kingdoms can start anew. I am tired of this fighting, and I do not want to have to bury any more friends."

The queen of Glendale was quiet, looking to Merlin and Morgana for council. But the sorcerers said nothing—there was nothing to say. She finally spoke, hesitantly.

"I'll speak to my council, and we'll see what will happen."

"That is all I ask."

* * *

"What would you have me do?" Gwenivere asked, her council seated before her at a great wooden table.

Outcries for both war and peace filled the hall, but in the end it was the voice of a wizened old man that quieted the rest.

"They have burned our crops, killed our sons, broken our citadel, betrayed our trust. Camelot has done all these things, and while I pray to see them in the deepest pits of hell, we must not let our pride get in the way for what's best for the kingdom. We may have won the battle, but we cannot win the war. Arthur Pendragon is offering an olive branch before an almost ensured victory—he knows we cannot last inside the citadel. Our people already go hungry; we would not make it to the next winter. So, while it pains me to bow my head before them, we must try for peace. If not for the sake of the generations, but for our people who live on the streets before our citadel."

"Then peace it is," the queen said sofly when no objections rose. "But now the question rises, how do we ensure nothing like this happens again? How do we make Camelot pay for what it has done?"

"It's simple," Morgana stood up, and all eyes turned to the priestess. "I have asked the dragons, and they have confirmed that I am, indeed, a Pendragon." Murmers filled the room as the lords at the table exclaimed their shock in silence, but Morgana ignored them. "The throne of Camelot is rightfully mine."

"So you would take the throne?" Gwenivere asked.

"Yes, and if I sat upon it then there would be no more war. Magic would no longer be outlawed, all would be as it should be."

Merlin finally spoke, quietly but clearly. "But the throne is rightfully Arthur's. He is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion. It has been foretold for centuries. To deny him the throne would be to veer off the course of destiny, and fate has often warned us never to play with her."

"We write our own destinies—"

"The Goddess oversees all matters of the kingdoms, we cannot deny her words," Merlin replied sharply. "As a High Priestess of her Religion, you should know this, Morgana."

The sorceress's eyes flashed gold and her eyes narrowed at her counterpart, the room suddenly buzzing with electricity as their magic played off each other's. "I have a rightful claim on the throne. I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon and Vivienne le Fey. I wield a power Arthur only trembles at."

"Camelot will never allow you to take the throne. Arthur is the true heir. The people would never accept it." Merlin was vaguely aware that he had gotten to his feet, without the use of his cane.

"Then we will make them." Morgana turned to the rest of the council, chin held high. "Those with magic have been shunned and slaughtered for too long. Arthur and his father betrayed you, they lay waste to your country and your citadel and your youth. Would you have Arthur take the throne and risk the chance of his betrayal once again? We have lingered too long in war and bloodshed- it's time those with magic had a voice. Would you deny them it?"

Talks burst through the hall, and Merlin looked down at his hands.

"Silence!" Gwenivere stood. "We will vote. All those in favor of Morgana taking the throne?"

Hands raised, some slowly, some with hesitation, but eventually half the council cast their votes in favor of the priestess.

"All those in favor of Arthur retaining his kingdom?"

Again, hands raised.

It was split in half.

Gwen turned to Merlin with troubled eyes. "You did not cast your vote—the choice goes down to you."

Morgana looked at him with wide eyes, nodding in encouragement. The warlock felt time stop as words spun through his mind.

_She cannot be trusted. _

_I thought I lost you._

_Why must we bow before those who are weaker than us?_

_I love you._

"I would have Arthur Pendragon take the throne." Merlin tried not to meet Morgana's eyes, but he could almost taste her bitter eyes, almost taste the betrayal. Gwen's words were a buzz in his ears as he focused on the beating of his heart.

The queen dismissed them soon after, and Merlin quickly left the hall and disappeared down the corridors. But she found him anyway.

"How could you?"

"Morgana—"

"How could you choose him, over me?"

"It wasn't a matter of choice—"

"Yes, it was! You made me look a fool in there! Why?"

Merlin spun around to face her. "Because Arthur is the Once and Future King and I am destined to build Albion at his side."

"At his side? Why not at my side?"

"Because—"

"You're a fool, Merlin. You've betrayed your people, the druids will be furious that you chose to have a Pendragon take the throne—"

"But YOU ARE A PENDRAGON!" he roared, and Morgana froze. When she responded, he could hear the poison dripping off her words like the fangs of a serpent.

"I am a High Priestess, the most powerful, and perhaps the last. I may be a Pendragon, but I am first and foremost a daughter of Vivienne. The throne is mine."

"No, it's not. And it will never be yours. The lust for power is bringing evil into your heart, Morgana, do not let it. The throne is Arthur's, and it always will be. I will not change my mind before the court, not now, not ever."

Morgana let out a bitter laugh. "To think, of all people it is you who denies me the throne. This betrayal runs deep, Merlin, and I won't forget it."

The warlock's eyes flashed dangerously and he took a step closer. Outside the clouds rumbled above, a storm brewing up in the heavens.

"Is that a threat, Morgana?"

"Trust me, Merlin, if I was threatening you, you would know of it."

Merlin leaned in close to her, breathing into her ear low words, his voice sharp. "Be careful. You may be strong, but I still remain the most powerful. You would do well not to challenge me."

"Challenge you?" Morgana raised an eyebrow. "No, you see, there is no use in challenging you. You do not have a spine. You would run around like destiny's bitch, letting her dictate your actions. But I won't bow, not to Lady Fate, and not to Arthur Pendragon."

"Don't do this, Morgana, the throne is not worth it." His voice and eyes grew soft, almost pleading as he looked down at her. "Please, forget it."

Morgana took a step back, and Merlin could almost feel the separation in his bones. "No." And with that word, she was gone.

* * *

Merlin stood by the window, watching the front gate of Glendale. Over the course of several weeks, Gwen and Arthur had drafted a temporary peace, and at long last Camelot's forces were withdrawing from Glendale for good. The agreement was two years of peace - no person could travel from country to country except the king and queen's messengers, and over carrier ravens and at midway points they would draft a permanent resolution to the conflict.

But Merlin hardly cared. He neither attended the meetings nor sat in with the council, choosing instead to advise his friend in the private of her chambers, where they could not be overheard.

Now as he watched Camelot's forces leave, his eyes caught sight of Morgana riding alongside her brother. She had volunteered to travel to Camelot and remain there to attempt to warm the people to the idea of magic. There she would seek out the remaining druids and speak to them, see what could be done so that they no longer had to live in hiding. Arthur had refused the acceptance of magic, expressing that it was almost as though he was spitting at his father's legacy. But he had agreed to think of repealing the ban on the Old Religion, and Morgana was there to ensure that he did.

"Are you sure you don't want to go with her? It's not too late, you know," Gwen said softly by his side.

"Perhaps some separation is good. Maybe she'll see her brother in a different light. I cannot force her to do and think as I please. She has made her choice, and I will see her again."

"After two years—"

"I couldn't leave now even if I wanted to," Merlin said, turning to the young queen and kissing her brow. "My place is here to help rebuild our country. Let the Pendragons do the same, and when the time comes, we will see them again."

"Will you still not tell me what happened between the two of you?"

"A lover's quarrel," Merlin said softly, turning back to watch Morgana as her mount disappeared into the trees and out of sight. "Someday she'll understand why I chose not to give her the throne. It is better this way."

"You will miss her."

The warlock smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That I will, princess…that I will."

**Don't hate me, come on, you knew everything wasn't going to be rainbows and butterflies! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I promise a cyber sundae to anyone who cares to tell me about how they thought it went! I know,not much action, but it was necessary dialogue! And seee, I didn't end at a cliffie that time, I thought you guys deserved a break! Thank you again for reading, it means bunches of bananas!**

_**Jillian DAmelio: I've been unable to reply to your reviews due to the guest thing so I thought I'd thank you here! You're too kind and it means so much to me that you've been consistently reviewing *hugs* I will love you forever. And yeah, what's awesome about fanfiction is how everyone can take the stories and put their own twists on it, it's not only fun for the reader but for the writer as well! Thank you again!**_


	20. Albion

**Hello! Sorry for the tardiness, I just started my vacation and the week before was filled with all the crap that teachers love to cram in before break! BUT I AM FINALLY HERE! The story is almost done...almost! **

**Oblivion: Bastille**

**WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT (I don't know how many of you will be pleased with that but we'll see, this is the first time I've ever written something like this before so I apologize in advance if it is crap)**

***gulp* well here goes nothing...**

_Two years pass._

Merlin straightened himself on his horse. The fine clothes he wore weighed him down, the thick blue fabric almost as dark as his hair. A high collar restricted his movement, and the rich fur cloak was heavy on his shoulders. But when a freezing winter wind ruffled his hair, the advisor was grateful for their presence.

The road to Camelot was a winter wonderland. Icicles dripped like crystal from the tips of bowing tree branches. Crisp white snow illuminated the scene, and Merlin looked up at the grey blue sky with eyes of a deeper color. He'd told Gwen that it would be better to travel in the days of spring, when the weather was kind and the heat like a warm blanket, but she was adamant that they should travel this winter. Ruckus was breaking out in the other kingdoms, rumors of rebellions in the deepest corners of Cenred's land and beyond. Both Glendale and Camelot's rulers had dubbed it necessary that their feud be put behind them so they would not appear weak and prone to unrest.

"Are you alright, Merlin?"

Gwenivere was looking at him with worried eyes. Her crimson dress was dark against the white snow, hair bound in an intricate design made of several tightly woven braids. Two years into her coronation, the queen looked comfortable in her position. No longer the breathless, stuttering girl he'd met so many years ago, she looked the regal part of ruler. But her high place never bred any kind of arrogance, and she remained as kind hearted and down to earth as that day many years past.

"I'm fine, just thinking."

"Of her?"

Merlin smiled softly but he felt his body stiffen. Mentions of Morgana did that to him.

"You're afraid of what might have come of her."

"It's been two years and she hasn't responded to any of my letters. I still have them beneath my bed, hundreds of messages returned to me unopened without reply. "

"She's angry…"

"For two years?"

The queen was quiet, looking for her next words in a snowy embankment. However, there were none. They'd had this conversation so many times that Merlin had lost count, and always they went along the same lines.

In all honesty though, the beautiful girl with the raven hair wasn't the only subject that haunted his thoughts and waking dreams. He hadn't confided in Gwen, he hadn't confided this with anyone but Gaius. But, speaking to the dragons and watching the moons, he'd received information that the crimson's moon eclipse was to be within the season. Merlin had dismissed it as best as he could, but now, riding towards Camelot, he couldn't help but suffer under the worries of a man who knows that time is running out.

It was no coincidence that his trip to Camelot coincided with the fast approaching eclipse, but all Merlin could do to prepare for the unknown terror was grip his sword just a little tighter and be just a little more wary of the proceedings around him.

"Camelot is just ahead, my lady," came a call from a guard, and Gwenivere nodded.

Sure enough, the marble towers of Camelot's citadel came into sight, and the trees and forest fell behind into a wide expanse of an untouched snow-white field. As they approached closer and closer, Merlin felt, for the first time in a very long time, a pit of fear growing in his stomach. The same feeling that plagued him before battles, the warlock shivered. Memories flashed across his mind - a sunlit throne room, a dark dungeon, a burning brand, a terrible betrayal...

Camelot didn't harbor good memories. The warlock wasn't sure if it ever would.

Despite his growing fears, the party plowed on, and news of their arrival must have reached the city just before they arrived. People had come down from the warmth hearths of their homes to watch the procession, some leaning from their balconies to watch the dark entourage that came from that kingdom far far away.

Merlin straightened his shoulders as they entered the large courtyard before the great doors of the citadel.

Then he saw her.

Morgana was dressed in a rich blue, her jade eyes looking out onto the Glendale party. She looked exquisite, long ebony hair brushed out and falling about her shoulders in pristine waves. Blood red lips and khol-darkened eyes were a mark of her well keep, but something about the excessive makeup made Merlin uncomfortable. Probably because the last he'd seen her she was still fighting a war and recovering from another, no care for her appearance. But somehow, that Morgana seemed infinitely more beautiful.

Their eyes met, and Merlin watched as her red lips opened, as though she wanted to cry out to him. A glimmer of warmth and love melted across those familiar jade eyes, and Merlin almost smiled. But then the fire was doused, and when she looked away he could only see ice as frigid as that which dripped from the detailing in the cold stone marking her eyes and features.

Merlin turned away, for a moment struggling to breathe. He tried to busy himself with the formalities of the moment, watching Gwen dismount and greet Arthur. The warlock then did the same. Morgana was then beside him—as advisors they would have to walk together into the citadel. When he approached, she dropped into a curtsy.

"My lord."

Merlin nodded his head and bent down, kissing the perfumed hand offered him. He allowed his lips to linger on the soft skin, and he could hear the small intake of breath that came from the lady before him.

So she'd missed him too.

"My lady, you look beautiful," he said softly, offering his arm to her. Morgana took it lightly, and side by side they walked behind the king and the queen, aware that, for a moment, all eyes were on them.

"Morgana," Arthur called when they were out of the earshot of the masses. "Would you escort Merlin to his room?"

The sorceress nodded and led Merlin down a hall. Finally out of sight, she pulled her arm from his grip as though he was scorching metal.

"Morgana—" Merlin reached for her shoulder as she began to walk with a brisk pace down the hall, not giving him single a word nor glance.

"What?"

"Please, let us talk?"

"What is there to talk about?"

This time Merlin's gaze turned icy and he pulled her in an alcove, pinning her there with his body.

"I haven't seen you for two years and you treat me like some stranger! A forgotten enemy!"

"After what happened, I think I have the right—"

"But two years? Two years without knowing how you were, what had come of you, how you were faring? And all the letters I wrote, sent back without a reply?"

Morgana looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I didn't receive any letters."

"Sorry?"

"What? Now you're acting confused. What of the letters I sent you, I wrote them in droves and every time I would get no response."

Merlin stepped back in shock.

"You wrote to me?"

Her eyes softened. "Of course. Every week I sent a new one, and every day I watched for a raven that never came."

"That was me as well," Merlin said gently, and he took her hand and softly held it in his own. "Don't you see? Someone is trying to pit us against one another."

"Who?"

"What does it matter? We're together now, aren't we?" Merlin took her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said and what I did that day in the council. I was wrong, I should have listened to you—"

"No, Merlin, it was I who was at fault. I let my anger towards Uther blind me and I took that fury out on Arthur. In the time I've spent by his side I've seen him grow. I've seen signs of the great king that he will become. He will do well on the throne. It was never mine to take. Besides, it was foolish to even make the offer. I was yet again so consumed with hate that I didn't think of the reality of the issue, and how it would have been impossible to convince Arthur to relinquish his throne with his banners at the gate. It seems I was just a girl, naïve and pitting myself against the world. I was wrong, and I'm sorry to have made you suffer for speaking truth. It seems that I have made a habit of disappointing you."

Merlin shook his head then smiled, leaning forward and kissing her brow.

"I've missed you," he muttered against her skin.

"And I you," Morgana wrapped her arms around his neck and they held each other there.

It was Merlin who pulled back, joy finally gracing those pale features after so many months, and he kissed her passionately and without warning. A little taken aback at first, Morgana smiled against his mouth and deepened the intimacy, gently working her way into his mouth and tasting his sweet breath. Her hand wrapped itself around the nape of his neck, and she let him push her back against the wall and envelop her in his arms, warm and soft and muscled through the thick clothes he wore.

Morgana pulled their lips apart and looked at him through lidded eyes as he continued to trail kisses down her jaw.

"We have to go…go get ready for the feast and the meeting. Come on, we haven't much time."

Merlin groaned with protest but Morgana only laughed and pushed him off, taking him by the hand and leading him down the corridors, smiling like children in a way that they hadn't in a very long time.

* * *

Morgana dropped by Merlin's chambers later that night, escorting him to the council meeting before the feast. Their hands were joined when they walked into the room, and Arthur and Gwen were speaking quietly when a man announced their entrance. Gwenivere smiled brightly at the sight of the both of them together, and Arthur simply nodded at Merlin.

When all the necessary council members had arrived, and were all seated around a vast round table that Arthur had built, they began. First they addressed matters of war reparations and other important issues that had to be spoken to. But finally, when the problems of war had been addressed, they began to speak about the problems of peace.

Arthur Pendragon stood, offering a hand to Gwenivere Leodogrance, and she took it and rose as well, the pair standing straight backed and proud, a vision of regality.

"Our kingdoms have been at war for a very, very long time. We have a history marred with bloody feuds, failed peace treaties, and terrible betrayals. And so, Queen Gwenivere and I have decided that, with our new reigns, we shall not let the future repeat the past. In order to forge a lasting alliance, we will wed to combine our kingdoms from now, until the end of our time."

Mutters erupted through the room, and like many others, Merlin and Morgana looked at the couple with gaping mouths. No one had heard of this arrangement, and Gwen smiled at their faces.

"I know this seems wrong," she addressed her council members. "To wed a kingdom who, only years ago, we were at war with. But peace does not happen between friends, it happens between enemies. The war we fought was on the matter of magic, and here, today, we will resolve it. When the two nations combine, magic shall be legalized once again."

Cries of shock and outrage filled the room, many of Camelot's men gawking at their young king. But Arthur only silenced them with a word and continued himself.

"Magic is like a sword. You can use it for good or ill. I have seen the evil in magic; I've suffered at its hand. But I've also seen the good in the Old Religion." Arthur turned to Merlin and Morgana. "How could I possibly condemn those with magic when the two most powerful sorcerers are two of my most trusted friends? One is even my sister. I betrayed them. I betrayed them because I was blind, but I can see again. The transition won't be easy, many will reject this change, but many more will embrace it. We'll need help and all of your support. That is why Gwenivere and I would like to ask if Merlin and Morgana would be our court sorcerers—teaching us what we need to know and helping us do what's right for both magical and non-magical peoples."

Merlin was still shocked, so it was Morgana who spoke for both of them. "We would be honored, my lord, my lady." She was silent for a moment, before continuing in a soft voice. "I'm so proud of you, brother."

With that the entire council burst into applause, and everyone in the room couldn't help but smile. Gwenivere laughed at how red Arthur blushed, teasing him with a light wink.

"Then it is settled," she called out through the din, and the room quieted at her honey-sweet voice. "But we have something else we must decide. Arthur and I have chosen Camelot's citadel as our capital because of its size and strategic location, but we cannot name our kingdom Camelot nor Glendale. We must choose a name for this land, a land that many have waited for, and many have died for. A land that, hopefully, will live on in the minds of men as a time of peace and prosperity that will go unmatched until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east."

The warlock stood with a light smile on his face. He knew the answer to this question, and he could feel shivers down his spine as he spoke with clear certainty.

"_Albion_. We shall call it _Albion_."

* * *

Morgana leaned in and whispered something in Merlin's ear, the warlock laughing, eyes twinkling. They were slowly dancing in the center of the hall, amid dozens of other pairs. The hall was echoing with the laughter and conversations of the people in the vast space, everyone seated or ambling in and out of the marble columns, eating and drinking at the great wooden tables that were groaning beneath the burden of dishes of every type –fish and fowl prepared in every possible fashion; sweet bread rolls baked with steaming soft innards and a crisp outer crust, smothered with strawberry preserve; vegetables sauteed, boiled, roasted, and fried with prime spices and herbs; venison steaks, pork ribs, rabbit haunches and chilled quail dipped in tart sauces; cheeses aged to perfection, served with fresh biscuits or else peppered with nuts and dried berries; succulent fruits of every kind—dates, exotic oranges, peaches, melons and canteloupes—all cut and sliced to form artistic formations to admire before consumption; a glorious suckling pig, spitted and rotated over gluttonous flames until its skin gleamed like the purest of amber; and at the center of every table, a proud, roasted peacock, their skins and feathers retained and fitted over a frame, giving the illusion of the magnificent birds sitting amongst the bountiful food.

It was warm, and the air smelled of spiced wine and mulled ale, and perhaps it was their smell that made everyone dizzy and giddy, and the dancers loose as they swayed past each other like entranced swans.

Gwenivere was watching Merlin and Morgana with an appraising eye as Arthur spoke to a nearby noble, constantly shooting looks at her to see how she fared. When Merlin looked up from Morgana's green eyes, his gaze met hers. He whispered something in the sorceress's ear, and she smiled, allowing him to slip from her grasp and walk towards the high table.

"Would you honor me with a dance, princess?"

"Of course, magical farmboy—though I'm no longer a princess."

"And I no longer a farmboy," Merlin replied with a smile, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

She wore a beautiful lilac dress, and it was soft under his hands and her touch warm as she wrapped her fingers comfortably around his neck in a familiar embrace.

"You're like a sister to me, Gwen," he began in a whispered voice, his breath upsetting the brown curls that had fallen from their keep.

"I know."

"Which is why I have to ask if you're alright with this. Why I have to ask why you decided not to confide in me your plans. You shouldn't have to marry to seal an alliance—"

"No, you see, Merlin, that is exactly what I have to do—and I knew you would speak me out of it even though it's the natural order of things. In times of peace, my father would have wed me to some foreign lord in a foreign land to forge an alliance, or strengthen one. As queen, the same duty is expected of me. My people are more important than my happiness—"

"But—"

"—But, I will be happy. Before this war started, I loved Arthur Pendragon. I think I still do, and I know I still can. He's a good man, an honorable man, not like his father before him. Arthur will be a great king, and I will be there by his side as I should be. Do not fret about me, Merlin. I want this."

Merlin smiled and came to a stop as the dance ended. He bent down and kissed her forehead, looking down at her with proud eyes.

"You will make a great queen, princess."

"I won't-for I never would have gotten here-without you, my old friend. "

The warlock smiled, and led her back to the high table where Arthur and Morgana were teasing Gwaine for his hair, the sorceress praising him on how luscious it was—more luscious than hers, she said, to the guffaws of the entire table.

"Gently, Morgana. You know how sensitive Gwaine gets," Merlin said with a smile, winking at his friend.

"So that's how it is, Merlin. This is betrayal most foul." The knight shook his head morosely.

"Go drink yourself a river, though I've seen you've done that already."

The table burst into laughter, the sorcerer dodging a loaf of bread that the knight threw at him, both men grinning from ear to ear.

In such a manner, the night continued. When at last the wine began to get to their heads and eyelids began to droop, the guests took their leave.

Merlin was walking Morgana to her room, arms intertwined as they spoke in the growing silence of Camelot's citadel, both feeling warm and pleasantly fuzzy after the night. But they both weren't drunk—the sorcerers never got drunk, it was a rule of theirs they would never break.

For that Merlin was grateful as they finally reached Morgana's doors, so that he could see her with crisp clarity. Her hair was slipping from the pins that held it in place, a warm twinkle in her eyes, ruby lips slightly parted in laughter. The light caught her ivory skin, turning it to satin.

"What are you staring at?" she teased.

Merlin ran his finger gently down her jawline, tracing the shape of her face. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Morgana smiled, and Merlin almost laughed at the rose blush that crept on her cheeks. It was a rare thing to embarrass her, and the warlock relished the moment. She looked up at him then, with those glittering eyes, and spoke with a soft voice.

"You made me a promise some years ago, before a great battle. You never kept it."

"Well, in my defense—"

Silencing him with a kiss, Morgana continued, her lips brushing against his with every word.

"I plan to keep you to it."

Merlin looked down at her, eyes lidded with desire. "Are you sure?"

She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed him again, this time with more passion, pressing herself against him.

"I'm guessing that's a yes," he breathed with a smile, and she punished him for his cheek by biting gently on his bottom lip. Merlin moaned.

Morgana's eyes shone gold and the door unlocked, and she led him inside, still intertwined as his eyes glowed gold to close and lock it behind them.

Finally alone, Merlin pushed her up against the wall, tongue opening her lips and exploring there. Her breath tasted of wine and fruits, a hint of exotic spice that the warlock couldn't name. Morgana ran her hands down his back, down to the edge of his shirt. They broke their kiss as he helped her pull the tunic off his shoulders, his undershirt following it. Now when Morgana touched him, she touched bare skin. His muscles quivered under her touch. She traced the lines of his flesh, the scars that shone white in the candlelight.

His lips left her mouth, moving to trail down her neck, leaving behind dry kisses that sent shivers through her body. As she continued to explore his bare chest, the tips of her fingers tracing his spine, he wound his hands around her back and began to undue the laces that held up her heavy emerald gown. When he finished the last knot, Merlin pushed it gently off her shoulders. Morgana shivered as she was left in her thin white shift, wearing nothing else underneath. The warlock pulled his head back for a moment, taking in the sight of her form in the sheer cloth.

Morgana stilled like a bird in darkness under his searching gaze, and from her tight stance, Merlin recognized her shyness and her fear. He had nearly forgotten that she'd never done this before, and he took her by the hand, leading her towards the feather soft bed. Before he laid her down, he wound his hands in her hair, pulling out the pins and letting it fall in ebony waves down her shoulders. Merlin gently ran his fingers down the silky locks, a simple but calming gesture.

He helped her lay down onto the bed, her eyes never leaving his. Her pupils were dilated as she took in his every movement, and Merlin, almost taken aback at his own forwardness, pulled off his trousers under her watching eyes. After giving her a minute to study him, take in his pale and muscled form, he joined her on the feather soft covers. Morgana shivered as he hovered above her. Their eyes met, gazes locking.

"You trust me?" Merlin asked softly.

Morgana was still for a moment before nodding, pulling herself up for a moment and kissing him lightly on the lips, an invitation. He deepened the kiss, making it just a bit wetter, slow and gentle as he ran his fingers down the sides of her shift, bunching up the fabric and pulling it off her head, tossing it aside.

She didn't meet his eyes as he took in her naked form. The candlelight danced off her bare skin, and Merlin's breath hitched. When she finally dared meet his gaze, Merlin leaned in and kissed her lightly.

"You are beautiful, Morgana le Fey."

Morgana's eyes widened and she smiled, ruby lips parting ever so slightly. For a moment neither of them did anything, simply studying each other in the dim light. The light cracking of the flame and their breaths were the only sounds. Then something snapped, a small sign that urged them forward.

Their lips met again with a new passion, and their hands began to explore. Merlin let Morgana go first, trying to remain still against her curious touch. She ran her hands down his chest, down to his hips where she traced the bone, and into the inside of his thighs. He shuddered as she finally gripped him, running her hand down his length softly at first, before growing bolder as her strokes became harder and more confident.

Happy that she was comfortable, Merlin held himself above her on one hand, the other moving to touch her satiny skin. His hands glided on her side, running over her quivering abdomen, and tracing the underside of her breast. Her touch stopped then, eyes closing in pleasure as his hand gently glided over her, stroking her nipples gently, already painfully hard and dark red in the candlelight. He lowered his lips to kiss her there, and her back arched off the bed at the foreign sensation.

Merlin was torn between watching her expression or paying attention to the task at hand, and instead did a little bit of both. It was strange to see her like this, so open and soft, the hard lines and cold edges of war gone in the warm light. He supposed he seemed the very same, and Merlin forgot everything but her in that moment, losing himself in her familiar yet new scent, in her familiar yet new touch.

Morgana shuddered beneath him, her hands finding their way into his black hair and pulling him closer. While his mouth pleasured her, Merlin allowed a single hand to glide down her side, gripping at her hips before disappearing between her legs.

She cried out in surprise when he touched her, running his fingers gently over her wetness, and Merlin could feel her shaking in his grasp. Leaving her breast, his lips kissed her fast beating pulse, and his hand left her warmth to massage the skin where her thigh met her hip, calming her with steady strokes.

As her heartbeat slowed, her legs opened naturally, and Merlin fit himself between them, moving to kiss her on her previously abandoned lips, already swollen. Their foreheads met gently, and Merlin looked down at her. Their eyes were blown black with lust and lidded with desire. They were so close that their long eyelashes touched. A thin sheen of sweat covered their bodies, and they glistened in the light.

Morgana leaned forward and kissed him deeply, pulling him down onto her with a hand that wound around his neck, one of her thighs wrapping around his waist, bringing him closer and closer and closer.

Merlin entered Morgana slowly, her head thrown back, muscles shivering at the intrusion. When he reached resistance he faltered for a moment, whispering her name and calling her attention to his eyes so that she wouldn't feel too much pain as he broke her maidenhood.

Morgana cried out, slightly uncomfortable as he seated himself inside her. They stopped moving for a moment, breathing against each other in quick rapid gasps. Merlin's hands began to massage her hips, stroking her and trying to help her relax, to accustom to the strange feeling. She did soon enough, and Morgana soon leaned into his touch, legs tightening around him and kissing him again, biting his bottom lip, sending a ripple of desire down him.

Merlin began to move, softly, gently, at first, growing in speed and passion as they wrapped themselves deeper in the other's arms, soft whispers and moans, the occasional cry all that could be heard. They reached the peak of their pleasure together, and Morgana silenced his voice with a kiss, their words vibrating in each other's mouths. Their eyes glowed gold as one, and all the candle's in the room blew out, leaving behind trails of smoke in the dark room.

Falling weakly in her arms, Merlin stroked her side as they cooled down, both breathing heavily. He softened inside her, and when he tried to pull away, her arms only pulled him closer. For a moment they reveled in the way they could feel the other's heartbeat—Morgana's quick and fast, Merlin's deeper but just as rapid.

When he finally pulled out of her, their eyes were clouded with not only lust but pleasure and exhaustion, and Merlin tumbled onto his back next to her, opening his arms. Morgana needn't be told; she shifted into his hold, moving onto her belly so that she could hold him in a lover's embrace, his hand resting at the bottom of her back. The warlock kissed the top of her head where she rested over his heart, and Morgana tightened her grip on him, her breasts soft against his chest. Legs entangled and arms wrapped around one another, they let themselves fall asleep swiftly as the stars shone all the brighter out their window.

* * *

A soft voice woke Morgana in the night, pulling her from blissful unconsciousness, echoing familiarly in her mind, and the sorceress's eyes snapped open at the words.

"_Sister, it is time. "_

**For those of you who didn't see it coming, come onnnnnn, you honestly think Morgana Pendragon would say such a cheddar filled apology?**

**ok, so what do you think about the loving? First time I've ever written something like this so I hope it wasn't too heavy or dirty, I tried to make it as...I don't know, not as lude as a lot of other writings that you see. I'd love some feedback, even if it might be awkward considering I'm such a sold newbie. **

**BUT YES, I APOLOGIZE THAT THERE WASN'T MUCH ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER, JUST SOME NECESSARY DIALOGUE! BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THERE WILL BE PLENTY OF ACTION IN THE NEXT CHAPTER FOR THOSE WHO HUNGER AFTER IT!**

**So what did you think of the chapter? Virtual cupcakes to those who share!**

**Thank you again for all your lovely reviews and your continued support!**

**-ladywarlock**

**PS: Do any of you watch Game of Thrones? Because I've accidentally found myself addicted to it and I finished both seasons in an unhealthy amount of time...**


	21. The Fires of Idirsholas

**Hello my beautiful readers! Again, apologies for my tardiness, this was a rather complicated chapter to write! If you see the number of words you can tell it's ppppreeeeetttyyyyy lengthy, and that's because I may not be able to update for the next couple of weeks. The sad fact is I have AP Mocks and final AP Exams fast approaching and I need to revise like hell for the next 2 weeks or so. Therefore, there is very little chance that I will be able to update. SO, I gave you a nice, long, juicy, fat, and busy chapter to try to make for it. A LOT HAPPENS OK. I hope you like it! (I'm excited because everything is starting to click but gahhhh it means the fic is almost over, i'm guessing another 3 chapters maybe?) **

**_Lie to Me: Red_**

**THANK YOU FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE REVIEWING AND FOR EVERYONE WHO IS READING! I REALLY DO HOPE IT'S GOOD!**

A_ soft voice woke Morgana in the night, pulling her from blissful unconsciousness, echoing familiarly in her mind, and the sorceress's eyes snapped open at the words._

"_Sister, it is time."_

Morgana shifted, looking up at Merlin's slumbering face, the words ringing in her mind. The moonlight turned his pale skin to ivory, and the sorceress was torn between finding him beautiful or adorable. His mussed hair stood in every which direction, like ink on her silk pillow, his breath soft. She could feel his heartbeat where she lay on him, slow and steady, just like the rise and fall of his chest.

Reaching over, she traced his collarbone, sketching patterns over his skin. Skimmed over his brand, drew over the long scars that stood jagged out from the rest of his smooth flesh. He shifted under her questing touch, and Morgana looked up just as his eyes blinked open, rich blue and faded over with sleep.

"Morgana?" His voice was soft and a little breathless as he pulled himself from his dreams.

"Sorry, I woke you."

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes."

Merlin's arm tightened on her waist, a protective embrace that Morgana leaned into.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, but since you're awake, I want to try something."

He looked up at her questioningly as she pulled herself up and straddled his waist. Merlin took in the sight of her naked form with the barest hint of a smile, his hand reaching upward and playing with a curl that fell down her shoulder.

"While I was here with Arthur, I visited the druids many times. They helped me continue honing my magic, and they taught me certain spells that could be useful in many circumstances."

"What kind of spells?"

She smirked and Merlin raised his eyebrow, but he smiled at the mischievous look on her face. Her eyes glowed gold and his arms were pulled above his head, the wooden headboard growing arms and turning to manacles as they secured him down.

Before he could protest, Morgana leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, and Merlin silenced under her, back arching up to continue the intimacy when she pulled away.

The sorceress rested her hands on his chest, beginning to mutter under her breath. Merlin watched her carefully as she spoke the foreign words, watching her with a mix of curiosity and admiration and lust.

But it didn't take long for him to realize something was very wrong.

Pain was beginning to blossom in his chest, the sensation of something being tugged deep within him taking away his breath.

"Morgana, whatever you're doing, I don't think it's working—" he choked out, but still she continued to mutter the words.

Then white hot agony rippled down his body, and the tugging turned into wrenching, and he opened his mouth to scream when Morgana silenced him with another kiss, breathing in his cries, her body wrapped tightly around him, rendering him immobile. She continued to whisper the words into his mouth, and Merlin could almost taste the bitter taste of the spell.

The last word sent every nerve in his body on fire, and Merlin's back arched, body as taunt as a bow. He was frozen like that for a moment, breath coming in shuddering gasps. Then he fell back onto the bed, eyes clouded. A spell crossed his lips, and his eyes glowed gold, only to flicker out like a candle, returning to an agonized blue, magic failing him.

Merlin met Morgana's gaze, emotions running across his gaze.

"I'm so sorry," the sorceress choked.

His eyes narrowed but he said nothing, instead struggling against his bonds to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss. It wasn't passionate or full of love or desire. It was a plea. A last ditch effort to bring her back into the light, a last ditch effort for her to see the right and the wrong, and with that plea Merlin fell back down into unconsciousness, his form limp beneath her.

Morgana wiped away a tear as it rolled down her cheek, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the forehead, feverishly warm beneath her soft lips.

"Someday you'll understand that I did this to keep you safe."

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes, a piercing light blinding him. He blinked, shifting.

That's when he realized he was bound.

As his gaze adjusted, he looked down to see shimmering silver chains wound tight round his chest. He was seated against the rough bark of a tree, the wood digging into his skin. Dressed normally, he wore a familiar red tunic and blue scarf, his body covered with a thick blue cloak edged with fur. It did little to stay the cold, and Merlin could see his breath as he breathed out into the frigid air.

"So you're finally awake."

Merlin looked up, meeting the gaze of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Her skin was fair, though her dress was anything but. She wore armor, similar to that of a soldier, a cloak the color of a blue midnight wrapped around her shoulders. A hand rested on the hilt of her sword, and she looked down upon him with narrowed eyes.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, his voice ragged.

"Morgause. Morgause le Fey."

_"P…Pl…Please. I was just following orders—"_

_"Whose orders? Who sent you to kill the prince?"_

_"Mm…Mmm…Morgause…Please don't hurt me…"_

Merlin's eyes widened with recognition. He struggled against his bonds, stopping suddenly as they tightened around him.

"Yes, I wouldn't struggle, my pet. The more you move, the tighter they get."

"Morgause!" a familiar voice called out before Merlin could reply, and he watched as Morgana entered the clearing.

She was dressed in her armor.

"Morgana," the warlock demanded, once more jerking against his restraints, "what is going on? What are you doing-?"

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I never meant to hurt you, but I knew you would stand in my way."

"Stand in the way of doing what?"

"Taking my rightful throne."

Merlin looked up at her, dumbstruck. She kneeled before him, their eyes meeting. Morgana could see the horror in his gaze, and her eyebrows narrowed at it.

"You thought I would relinquish my right, just like that?"

"Why do you even want the throne!" he cried. "Arthur did everything we could ever hope for, he legalized magic! What reason have you to take the throne from him?"

"You think that Arthur will keep his promise? Do you even know the crimes he has done against our kind? Did you know that he used to come into these very woods and slaughter whole druid camps, women, children, and the elderly, innocent of all crimes except their magic? Arthur Pendragon is a murderer—those with magic will not have him seated on the throne. When one servant of the Old Religion makes a mistake, he will purge us like his father before him. No, not again. Those with magic will not take that risk, not when there is a rightful heir among them."

"But you too are a Pendragon—"

"Yes, but I am a daughter of the Old Religion, a high priestess. Vivienne le Fey was my mother, and Uther Pendragon was my father. I am a mix of both magic and non-magic, the perfect fit for the throne. I have a rightful claim, and with me as queen both sides would be happy."

Merlin shook his head. "These are not your words, Morgana. These are Morgause's. She's been out to kill Arthur since before the war—she sent the assassins the night of the masquerade! You cannot trust her."

"She is my sister, and was here when you weren't," Morgana replied icily.

"We fought because I told you you cannot take the throne. It is folly, Morgana. Even now, do you think Arthur will give you his kingdom? You think his armies will betray him and come to your side to crown you the rightful queen? Not to mention you would be fighting the combined force of both Glendale and Camelot, or had you forgotten that after so long we have finally just achieved peace?"

"It saddens me to go to war again, but now is the right time. We'll take them by surprise, they have no idea what is happening. We'll attack in the early hours of the morning, while the soldiers are still asleep and the sentries have begun to drowse off as their long watch comes to an end. Before the bakers bake their bread and the shopkeepers open their stores, we'll storm a sleeping castle, its guardians hung-over from the parties that shook the citadel just last night. Behind me I have thousands of magic users, druids and sorcerers tired of the yolk of the rule of those lesser than us. Not to mention the last High Priestesses, Nimueh, Morgause, and of course, myself. And we could have you."

Merlin closed his eyes and breathed out. "I won't betray them, you know I will not. This is madness, Morgana. Your gifts weren't given to you so you could wield them as a right to power. "

"And why not? I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion. In my palms I hold the power of the seven heavens and still I'm told to kneel before a man I could kill without uttering a word. Too long have we with magic remained in the shadows, it's time we took our place as leaders, no longer afraid of our abilities."

"This isn't you, Morgana. Please, don't do this."

"Someday you will understand, Merlin, why it has to be this way. Now you are blinded by your loyalty and by what destiny has told you, and I know that this hurts you. But when the war is won you will see your naivety, your folly, and you'll come to join me. We could stand together, side by side. We are the most powerful people in these kingdoms. We could bring about a time of peace and magic that people have only ever dreamed of."

"I will stop you."

Morgana laughed. It was a dry laugh. "And how do you plan on doing that, lover? I've taken your magic, it is bound to me now, and is useless. Now do you know how it feels to be helpless? You humiliated me in that court room two years ago, and today I stand here stronger than ever before. You betrayed me, but still I will fight for what is mine," her voice, once soft and accepting, turned suddenly sharp at his open defiance.

"You say I do not know what it means to be helpless. You say I have never been trapped by those I thought I could trust with my very life. Could it be, Morgana, that you have already forgotten what you did to me? In fear of magic, in fear of prosecution against yourself, you betrayed _me_. You humiliated _me_. But I forgave you. I forgave you a thousand times over." He shook his head, in disgust of himself, in pity of her. "So this is what it has come to. Remember when we fought together? Why is it that now we fight on opposite sides? Tell me, what went wrong?"

Morgana was near quivering with fury_._"You chose him, over me. You chose them, over us. You chose to leave me in the dark, to betray your kind," she spat back at him.

"No, it was _you_ who betrayed us. Magic is supposed to be used for good-that is its true purpose. Not glory."

"Yes. Right from the mouths of wizened old professors. Don't you understand? No matter how much you protect them, no matter how much you serve them, they will never truly trust you. You are the thing that they cannot understand, and that shouldn't be something to be ashamed of."

"Don't—"

"You've pretended for so long that you've forgotten who you are. You may be willing to spend your days as a servant, to wait upon them and answer to their every command, to pretend that you are less than them, but that is not something I will do. I will not apologize for who I am. It's time those with magic fought back. It's time for a blow to be dealt for the likes of you and me, and if you are too weak to do it yourself, then it falls to me."

"Then I am sorry to say that we will fight on opposite sides tonight, and for the battles to come until you give up this madness."

"How will you fight against me? You have no magic, you have nothing."

"You're wrong."

"Then pray tell me what you have?"

"Your heart."

Her laugh filled the air again. "Perhaps, and it is the only reason that Morgause hasn't killed you yet. When I return, you will be singing a different song."

"Morgana, please, don't do this," Merlin begged, struggling once again in his bonds, ignoring the pain as they grew ever tighter.

"Goodbye, Merlin. I hope you will forgive me."

"Morgana!" Merlin screamed, but Morgause whispered a spell and the two sorcerers vanished in violent smoke, leaving the warlock on his own, deep within a forest in a land unfamiliar to him with nothing to do but choke against his chains, the taste of betrayal bitter and laced with steel in his mouth.

* * *

Morgana ran into the citadel, a heavy green cloak wrapped around her, hiding her armor from prying eyes. The sun hadn't risen yet, but the stars were beginning to fade and the sorceress could sense the birds shifting in their nests. Dawn was fast approaching.

Slipping in past the drowsy gaurds, Morgana made her way into Camelot's old crypt. She and Arthur used to come here and play amongst the graves, sitting down later on the dusty floor telling horror stories among the skeletons of the ancient dead. That was before Uther forebade their playfulness and put a sword in Arthur's hand and a needle in hers, back before they grew up.

Dismissing the memory, the sorceress pulled a rowan staff from within the folds of her cloak, wasting no time. She began to chant loudly, eyes beginning to burn brightly in the darkness. Then, with a cry, she slammed the staff into the ground, breaking the stone with a sound like thunder.

And silence.

Morgana breathed, chest heaving, feeling loose from the spell, and watched as rays of light shot from the rowan wood, illuminating the skeletons in the chamber until the whole room seemed to glow. When the lights snuffed out, the bodies began to rise. Skeletal fingers pushed aside their concrete tombs, pried themselves from their alcoves in the splitting walls, and broke out from beneath her .Slowly the army of the undead rose on shaking feet, the clicking of their bones loud in the echoing chamber.

Breathing out, Morgana sent the message to her sister. Even if Arthur could fend against Morgause and Nimueh's joint attack from outside the citadel, there was no way Camelot could withstand an assault from within—especially if the attackers couldn't be killed.

Turning towards her rising army, Morgana's eyes glowed gold once more.

"Take the citadel, kill only those who choose to defy you. The king and the queen are mine."

One by one, the skeletons nodded and departed, and with a quick spell Morgana armed her soldiers with rusted steel blades that they gripped tightly, their jaws forming unnerving smiles in the darkness. Not for the first time, Morgana felt unease in her belly, but she clutched to Morgause's words and followed the undead into the still sleeping citadel.

* * *

Morgause turned to Nimueh as light began to appear on the horizon. The two priestesses rode in front of the resting citadel, with them only seven riders. Immortal knights clad in black, riding horses of ebony, awoken by the Priestesses by the fires of Idirsholas. Morgause wore her armor and Nimueh only a ragged dress. The blonde wasn't worried—no one got close enough to hurt Nimueh anyway.

"It's time," her companion said softly, long, knotted locks held back a clip made of ivory dragon bone, dress tattered and crimson. Morgause appraised the beautiful woman by her side, Nimueh's liquid voice echoing with power whenever she spoke. Soft jawlines and soft pale skin and eyes the bluest of blues, the sorceress was a vision.

Their eyes flared gold as they called upon their army. Around them, hundreds of vengeful druids and vindictive sorcerers arrived in blasts of smoke. The ultimate surprise. They began to approach the citadel, and only when they could knock on the front gate did the great bells of Camelot toll, and the castle realize that it was under attack.

Turning to Nimueh, Morgause nodded and the two priestesses began to chant, eyes blazing.

"_Thurh minum gewealde ond thinum maegen... geclippath we thone lieg the ealla awestath_."

Morgause smiled grimly as devastating fire balls topped the great walls and smashed into the city as though cast from unseen catapults. _Well,__that should get their attention…_

* * *

Arthur awoke to screaming. The cries ripped him from his dreams and he shot up in bed, sheet falling off his shirtless form. His first instinct told him it was a nightmare—until the screams continued in his very awake state. Leaping from bed, the young king quickly pulled on a mail tunic and a leather jerkin—there was no time for armor now. Still attaching the sword to his waist, Arthur threw open the door to his chambers to find Gwenivere about to open them, dressed similarly.

"Do you know what's going on?" Arthur asked.

The queen shook her head and Arthur sent off in a sprint down the deserted corridor, Gwenivere at his heels. Bursting into the main hall, the king skidded to a halt.

A guard before them gurgled as a skeleton slit his throat, the blood spilling on the ground as the young man choked out his last breaths. Then the skeleton turned to look at them, smiling. Its ivory bones were splashed with gore, its forearms stained crimson and the sword in its hand dripping rubies.

_Magic._ Arthur tried to suppress a shiver as he approached the unnatural being. Holding out his sword, the king lunged forward.

_Where are you, Merlin?_

* * *

The warlock struggled in the chains, but still they mercilessly grew tighter. His chest was crushed under their unforgiving grip, and breathing was becoming difficult. Throwing his head back, Merlin called as loudly as he could into the night sky, shouting at the top of his bruising lungs what he had been doing for what felt like centuries.

But still the dragons would not come.

He could not feel their presence, and Merlin attributed it to the loss of his magic. It left an empty hole inside him, and everything felt unnatural without it flowing through his veins. Yet still he had to try. Putting in the last of his strength the warlock screamed.

_Come on Kilgarrah, even if I can't sense you, you should be able to sense me._

* * *

Morgana tore down the hallways, sword dripping. As she passed the shattered windows she could see the blood-red sunrise as it bleached over the horizon, painting the white marble of Camelot with a crimson glow. Any who stood in her way were felled. Servants and pages shrank away in her presence. Her journey was no challenge, and finally, she reached the heart of the castle—the throne room. Throwing open the large, heavy double doors, the sorceress stepped inside, the dark wooden throne staring up at her where it stood deserted in the center of the room.

_I'm inside._

Morgause's reply was immediate, and Morgana smiled. Stretching her bloodstained limbs, she took a seat on the hard throne, resting her slaked sword on her knees as she sat languidly on the mahogany wood. Watching the sunrise bathe the room in red, the sorceress waited for her brother's arrival.

* * *

Arthur took the head of the skeleton with a resounding crack, Gwenivere stomping on the bones and crushing it beneath her boot. Spilling oil over the still writhing remains, Arthur lit it aflame and the two fiancés raced forward. It wouldn't kill the creature, but at least it rendered it incapacitated for a while.

They ran out of the building, nearly tripping down the marble stairs that led to the main courtyard, the once white stone slicked crimson with blood. Bodies littered the entrance to the citadel, and a force of red-and black-clad knights were holding off forces down the abandoned streets.

"Arthur!" Percival raced towards him, his armor bloodstained and cuts littering his bare arms.

"What is happening? Who is attacking the citadel?"

"Sorcerers, my lord, it looks like Morgause and Nimueh are leading them."

"Nimueh," Arthur breathed, astonished. "I thought she left the kingdoms years ago, during the Purge..."

Percival shook his head. "If she had, the lure of revenge was too sweet to ignore. They haven't yet broken into the main gates."

Arthur felt his teeth grind. "They have. We're being attacked from within. An army of undead are butchering everyone in the citadel. Have you seen Merlin?"

"No, I haven't seen him since last night."

"And Morgana?"

"She too is missing."

Arthur swallowed, turning to Gwen. "We have to go to the throne room. In times of trouble, my father used to always say to return to the heart of the citadel, and our enemies are sure to go there too." The king turned back to Percival. "I need to lead the people away from the city, get them out through the siege tunnels beneath the citadel and lead them to the Darkling Woods. I'm entrusting their safety to you."

The knight nodded curtly and set off running towards the Lower Town, and Arthur turned hesitantly to Gwenivere. "You should probably go with him, you'll be safer—"

"My place is by your side, Arthur. Let's go."

Smiling softly, the King turned around and the two monarchs raced back into the broken citadel, swords at the ready.

* * *

They'd been fighting for a whole day. Merlin knew it. He knew it by the way the sun rose in the sky, then peaked and began to fall, sunset approaching.

A whole day. How many could die in one day?

It felt strange. Being blind like this, being helpless like this. He was so used to leading the charge and knowing exactly what was going on, but now he knew nothing. All Merlin could see was the black column of smoke through the canopy of trees, and he knew it was Camelot burning. Gwenivere could already be dead, Arthur, Gwaine, even Morgana, and he would still be left clueless in the depths of these godforsaken woods.

It was in this state of despair that salvation came. The trees began to shake, leaves falling around him, burying themselves in his hair. A great wind rustled Merlin's cloak, and froze him where he sat chained to the tree, breathing a terrible task. An agonizing task. But finally Kilgarrah was there, great golden eyes wide and confused and fearful, an emotion Merlin rarely saw in those burning eyes.

"Young warlock, when the birds told us of the attack we came as soon as we heard, why did you not call us?"

"I did," Merlin said bitterly, looking up as Kilgarrah ran his claws through the chains, breaking them. "I tried, but Morgana bound my magic. I couldn't feel you in my thoughts, and I couldn't use my strength to call out to you from so many miles away."

"Morgana. So she has betrayed you and chosen the foretold path."

"Yes," Merlin said as a rose, suddenly stopping and looking up at the dragon. "Wait, you knew? You knew the prophecy all along? Why didn't you tell me—"

"—Because you never would have listened."

The warlock wrapped the cloak tighter around himself, rubbing his hands over his chest where the chains were sure to have bruised, breathing in deeply. Trying not to concur with the dragon's words.

"How do I get my magic back? How do I stop her?"

"She or one of her blood must undue the spell, or the enchantment's vessel must be destroyed."

"But the vessel is Morgana, so how can I-?"

"That is easy, young warlock. You must kill her. "

Merlin took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no there has to be another way—"

"I'm sorry, Merlin, there is no other alternative."

"No, no, it won't come to that. I'll speak to her, get her to see the truth. Her time with Morgause has blinded her, I can fix that. She has a good heart, she still has a good heart. I can do this, I can fix this."

Kilgarrah looked down sadly at the young man. "You can try." The words were as empty as a hollow shell, easily broken to reveal the hopelessness inside.

Coughing, Merlin straightened himself and breathed in, trying to gather his thoughts. "Send two of your brethren to help guide and protect the people as they flee the city, chances are they will be going through the tunnels. Another two send to look for druids that are still loyal to me, and not to the priestesses. For the rest, the command is simple." The warlock looked up at Kilgarrah with cold eyes. "Destroy their army, and if you can't, try to get them out of the citadel, to buy us more time."

The dragon bowed his head obediently, and above his head in the dimming sky, Merlin could see dark shapes descend from the cloud. Turning back to the great dragon, the warlock spoke softly.

"I have one last favor to ask of you, old friend."

As Merlin rode upon the dragon's back, there was a moment of peace. The wind, though bitter and cold, woke his senses, helped him see clearly. They flew over endless legions of trees, and when they finally reached the citadel under the cover of night, Merlin almost wished he was back in the bliss and solitude among the branches.

Camelot was burning. From the lower town to the citadel, rivers of flames blazed. From where he was seated high in the heavens, Merlin could see the tiny figures battling in the streets. Already the dragons lay siege to the army outside the door, and the warlock felt his blood chill as he saw powerful enchantments rise to meet them. There was powerful magic here, and if he was too be any help, he needed to get his back.

Kilgarrah dropped him gently on the roof of a turret, and the warlock quickly jumped off and ran towards the trap door that led within the citadel, the dragon's last words stopping him.

"Remember, young warlock, she betrayed you. Albion's end is nigh, and the destiny you would have shared with Arthur fading. You must do whatever you can to stop this."

Merlin nodded shortly, and Kilgarrah could see the pain in his blue eyes before he turned and disappeared into the burning castle, out of the dragon's sight and protection.

* * *

Morgana looked out from the window, the sunset blood red. The bodies of knights littered the throne room—many had come, and all had fallen. Arthur and Gwenivere were on their knees, bound in chains, blood seeping from their various wounds. Every now and then Morgana would turn around and meet their eyes, and each time it was a new and equally terrible emotion—betrayal, rage, horror, despair, sadness. Every time the sorceress would look away, looking onto her old home as it burned, watching as the people and the soldier's strength waned with every passing moment.

It wouldn't be long now.

The great door opened with a slam and a scream. Her guards fell dead into the throne room, throats slit. In from the smokey corridors strode Merlin, not clad in armor or a cloak, but carrying a blood stained sword. He looked exhausted, haggard, scared. Morgana could see the wounds that peppered him, but still the warlock walked in with his head held high, gaze hardening like steel at the sight of Arthur and Gwenivere bound and gagged.

"What are you doing here, Merlin?" she asked softly, unsheathing her sword and moving to stand between him and her prisoners. She could not even bring herself to ask _how_.

"Stop this, Morgana. You can still stop this before more die. Stop this madness, I am begging of you," he replied tiredly, sadly, blue eyes looked old and withered.

"I'm sorry, lover, I cannot go back now. I've chosen my path, and it is time you choose yours," she raised her sword, leveling it at him, and he gave a soft smile. Then he loosened the weapon in his grasp, opening his arms and baring his unarmored chest to her.

"What are you going to do now, kill me?"

"You don't think I can?"

Merlin closed his eyes and took a step forward. "Go on, make it quick."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know, but I cannot let you hurt them."

Morgana smiled. "So it seems like we are where we started."

"Yes."

The pair were silent, standing across from each other, looking sadly at the other, waiting for them to make the first move. The throne room was disturbingly quiet, despite the destruction raging outside. Merlin's voice was eerie when he spoke next, one sound filling a space too large.

"Let them go, Morgana. Please, I don't want to have to do this."

"Neither do I, but I must do what I must do."

"Then I am so sorry, my love," Merlin whispered softly, beginning to circle her, running his sword down her own.

"You know you cannot win this, Merlin. I am better with the sword than you, and I have magic. "

"Might as well give it a shot. For _Albion_."

At that word, Morgana's eyes hardened, and she shielded herself from his half-hearted lunge, replying with her own. And then he just became another enemy, another sword to fight off, another foolish man to kill. Until her sword stabbed him in the shoulder and he stifled a cry of pain, and then he was Merlin again, clutching at his bleeding arm for a moment before straightening his shoulder and desperately continuing the attack, ignoring Gwen and Arthur's cries from behind him.

She dipped and twisted, turned and feigned, and it was obvious that he stood no chance. After another nick to the arm, Merlin staggered back. Without armor, every blow left a mark, and he could feel sweat running down his face. Morgana was quick, lunging forward and disarming him with a crushing bow, and he fell to his knees before her, the point of her sword against his quivering throat.

Then she lowered it.

Morgana bent down before him, dropping her sword and taking his face in her hands, lifting his chin like he had done to her so many a time, forcing Merlin to look into her eyes.

"You are fighting for a destiny, and you believe you fight for good. But have you ever wondered if the side you are fighting on is really the side of the right? Have you ever thought that maybe I'm correct about this? You and I are born of magic. We are creatures of the Old Religion. For decades Camelot has hunted us down and persecuted us. It is because of Camelot that you believed you were a monster for so long, why I always lived in fear and hate of who and what I was. But you know now...it doesn't have to be this way. Those with magic should be able to prosper, to live in peace. However, we cannot enter that peace until Camelot and all her allies answer to the murder of thousands of our brothers and sisters, the near extinction of our kind. Do you see them?" Morgana turned to where Arthur and Gwenivere knelt. "They are the enemy. Not me, not my sister, not the sorcerers who fight for justice. Make your choice, Merlin, will it be us, or them?"

Merlin looked into Morgana's eyes, and then shifted his gaze behind her. Out the window, the warlock could see the night sky, black as ink, and in its center a great crimson moon, so deep it seemed to be dripping blood, a ring of white light around it.

The warlock closed his eyes.

"_When the blood moon eclipses, you'll have to choose, and that choice will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms. Young warlock, you have powers that you know not of, but be warned, all magic comes at a price, and your sacrifice will be the greatest of them all."_

Opening his eyes, Merlin looked at Morgana. Even covered in blood she was beautiful, and the sincerity in her eyes took his breath away. He reached and took his hands in hers, rubbing his fingers over them.

"No more lies?" he breathed.

"No more lies," Morgana promised, a hope glimmering in her eyes.

"Then I choose you, Morgana le Fey, as rightful Queen of Camelot."

From behind him Merlin could hear Gwen and Arthur fighting against their gags to cry out to him, but all he heard were muffled sounds. Before him, Morgana smiled. She got to her feet and extended a hand, which he gratefully took.

"Thank you, Merlin. You don't know how much this means to me."

"Remember, Morgana. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. No matter whatever happens between us, never forget that I will always hold you in my heart."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the window. Through the smoke and the dark he could see the dragons glowing in the light of the fire, wreaking havoc on the army below.

"Call off your dragons."

"I can't. Not without my magic. The only reason I could speak to them was because they found me," Merlin turned to her. "Give me back my magic, I'll call them off and we can end this war together."

Morgana smiled. "I wish I could, lover, but I'm afraid I cannot trust you yet."

"So when are you planning on returning it?"

"When you have proven your loyalty."

Merlin breathed out, looking back at where Arthur and Gwen knelt chained, looking up at him, tears running down Gwen's face.

"What will you do to them?"

"We will try them for their crimes against magic in court, and then deal out suitable punishment. Don't worry, Gwen has always supported the Old Religion so will probably not be harmed…too badly."

The warlock sighed. He reached towards his belt where he pulled out a water skin. Putting it at his lips, Merlin went to take a sip when he turned back to Morgana.

"There isn't much left, and who knows when you'll have the chance to drink again. You've used a lot of magic. Here, finish it."

"No, I'm fine. You—"

"Really, Morgana, you're dead on your feet. I've barely done anything yet, my strength will hold."

The sorceress turned to him with a smile, taking the pouch from his hand and raising it to her lips.

"Thank you, Merlin, you're a true friend."

"I think I'm a little more than that," he joked, walking forward and looking out into the night, staring at the fading eclipse, wiping away a tear.

Morgana clutched her throat and fell to her knees.

**so...what do you think? I tried to make it like one of those action sequences where all the little bits happen at once and so I hope it works! I was planning to stop it at one point but I figured I might as well make it nice and long and I hope that somehow works! **

**I was a bit nervous about this chapter because it's kind of a new way of writing action scenes, so I'd love some feed back!**

**Thank you again and I'll see you all soon (hopefully!)**


	22. Lady Fate

**Hello my beautiful lovely magnificent readers! I've missed you! My final exam was on Friday (hallelujah) so school is now resuming as per normal so I finally had the chance to write! I managed to chug out this monster in that span of time (longest I've ever written I think) but I enjoyed it-even if I may have forgotten how to write but anyways...Well, this was a great chapter to write because it's all angst, writing the battle was ugh though so tell me how it went. You'd think that I would have gotten better at these things...**

**I've seen that there have been many new favorites and followers, so I'd like to welcome you! I hope that this chapter doesn't let you down after such a long wait!**

_**Miss Missing You and Just One Yesterday: Fall Out Boy (Btw, any fans of theirs that live in Michigan, I'm going to their concert this summer, anyone else?)**_

**After much too long, let us continue with the story!**

The_ sorceress turned to him with a smile, taking the pouch from his hand and raising it to her lips._

_"Thank you, Merlin, you're a true friend."_

_"I think I'm a little more than that," he joked, walking forward and looking out into the night, staring at the fading eclipse, wiping away a tear._

_Morgana clutched her throat and fell to her knees._

* * *

Morgause wrenched her hand to her neck, the world suddenly blurring before her eyes. She stabbed the man before her quickly, barely feeling his warm blood splattering across her fair features. Spinning around, she caught sight of Nimueh, meeting the other priestess's eyes with a panicked gaze. Immediately, the woman knew what happened. She screamed out a spell, blasting everyone in a ten foot radius to the ground, racing towards Morgause and taking her slender hand, leading her deep within the burning citadel.

* * *

It was prophesied that his choice would rise or raze the seven kingdoms, but somehow Merlin didn't know if he had done either or as he stepped forward towards Morgana. In fact, he felt nothing. Just numbness. A simple nothingness that rose from his toes and enveloped his bearing, filling his ears with silence, dimming the edges of the world until all that remained were her jade eyes, looking up at him wide and bright, glistening with tears and horror.

Lowering himself, he reached towards her. She backed off, trying to escape his touch, but Morgana was weakening and ultimately let him draw her into his blood-soaked arms. She gasped and coughed, air slipping hoarsely from her lungs, throat closing. Every breath was like a lover's caress, bliss when given, but leaving her desperate for more. And so, since Morgana was denied oxygen, she held Merlin tighter instead, allowing the weight of his arms around her, the feel of his hard, warm body around her tie her to the world, focusing on nothing but the throb of his fluttering heartbeat at her back.

Merlin looked up at the broken ceiling of the throne room, trying to keep the tears from falling down his eyes. But they did. They fell onto Morgana's forearms, where she grasped his hands, her struggles lessening with every passing moment as the poison cursed her veins and turned her skin fever hot. Her eyes burned gold in an attempt to purge itself, but it was to no avail.

Then the doors blasted off their hinges, Morgause and Nimueh skidding to a startled stop inside. Their eyes widened at the sight before them. Merlin holding a dying Morgana in his arms, Arthur and Gwen looking on with shocked and horrified eyes. Morgause let out a cry and raced down towards the pair, sliding on her knees and wrenching Morgana's limp form into her armored arms, stroking her face and shaking her sister's shoulders.

"What has he done to you?" she murmured frantically, Nimueh falling to her knees by her side.

Merlin pulled away, tears in his eyes, gasping as the world returned to stark clarity.

"I had to."

Morgause looked up, shock written across her features.

"You poisoned her," she gasped.

Taking a breath, Merlin slowly pulled himself up and straightened his shoulders, trying not to look at his dying lover.

"You left me no choice."

"Tell me what you used and I can save her."

"First, stop the attack. Pull your armies out until at least tomorrow morning. If you want to know the poison you will undue the magic that smothers my powers—"

"TELL ME THE POISON OR DIE!" Morgause screamed at him, eyes burning gold with fury.

Merlin swallowed. "And she'll die with me."

Morgause looked up at him with a mixture of fury and desperation, pulling her head towards Morgana and touching her burning forehead with her own. Tears welled up in her eyes and she rocked her sister lightly back and forth.

"I don't want this any more than you," Merlin choked, his hands fists by his sides. "But you give me no choice. Do what I asked, and you can save her."

Morgause shook her head, wretched sadness turning the high priestess human. Then with a silent voice, eyes still fixed on Morgana, she began to speak softly. Eyes burning gold, she called upon her armies and whispered the counter curse, Nimueh an immobile statue by her side.

Merlin felt the return of his magic in a tidal wave, the world turning white then returning with more vivid clarity, lighting his blue eyes and buzzing through his veins in pleasure at its return. The warlock flexed his arm, the bonds around Gwen and Arthur falling, looking back down at the high priestesses.

"Hemlock," he said softly, looking down at Morgana. _Save her._

Morgause now looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks and grip tightening around her sister. It was Nimueh who finally spoke, voice cool and nonchalant, but laced with icy venom as she appraised him.

"I told her to kill you. I told her you wouldn't do as she wanted. But Morgana loved you, and so didn't listen to me. She loved you, and she thought you loved her. No matter though. When we return tomorrow, with Morgana healed at our side, no power in heaven nor hell will save you and your precious kingdom from our wrath. That love that protected you will be gone, and all that will be left is a hatred that will run deeper than the roots of the ancient rowan tree."

"Leave," Merlin said coldly. "Before I change my mind."

Nimueh let out a tinkling laugh. "You may be powerful, Emrys, but you'll be dead by the scarlet sunset tomorrow, mark my words. _Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard_!"

In a storm of black smoke the three women were gone, leaving Merlin alone to silence. Behind him, he heard Arthur and Gwen shift, approaching him slowly. Wiping away the tears from his cheeks and taking a rattling breath, Merlin straightened his shoulders and looked back at his friends.

"Merlin—" Gwen whispered softly, reaching for him. But he flinched from her touch.

"What's done is done. Just make sure I don't ever regret my decision." Turning his gaze to Arthur, he met his blue eyes with a steely gaze. "I bought us until tomorrow so we can centralize the forces. Go to the troops and tell them what to do. I'll deal with the undead army."

The king nodded, and just as Merlin moved to leave he blurted out," Thank you, Merlin."

Stopping, the warlock took a deep breath. "Don't thank me yet."

With that, Merlin strode out of the throne room, speeding down the ruined hallways and stepping over the bodies that littered the ground. Up ahead, he caught sight of a knight wrestling with a skeleton, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned it to ash. The young soldier looked up at him, eyes widening at the sight of the warlock. Merlin picked a sword off the ground, and as he walked his armor slowly inched its way up his body, magically growing on his form, and when he finally reached the main courtyard he looked the part of war general.

Enemies fled through the city gates, and the knights of both Camelot and Glendale watched in awe as Merlin slipped his way down the blood-soaked stairs, raw power emanating off his body in cold fury, black and silver armor unsullied on his lithe frame, until finally he disappeared into the crypts without giving the warriors a second glance.

Down below, the warlock destroyed the skeletons that guarded the shining rowan staff, incanting a spell under his breath and swinging his sword at the wood, shattering it in a blast of light. The remaining skeletons fell to the ground, bones once more, only blood the tell-tale sign of their former reanimation.

* * *

"We'll stand our forces right before the gates, and do our best to keep them from entering the city. Try to focus in the courtyard, and set up barricades in the streets to keep them from reaching the citadel where we'll house our wounded. If the citadel is taken, all will be lost…"

Arthur stopped, looking up from a map of Camelot as the door opened, Merlin striding in, wiping his sword with a stray piece of cloth.

"The skeletons are gone, the staff destroyed. Kilgarrah has informed me that all the civilians are out of the city, and one of his brethren gaurds them in the Forest of Ascetir. Those druids still loyal to me have answered my call. Just over one hundred shall come. The rest will not defy the will of the priestesses in battle, but they travel now to the people to help heal and protect the innocents. The dragons, and those druids who will fight, are at your command, sire."

Swallowing, the king nodded his head in thanks. Merlin joined them around the table, aware of the stares he was receiving. Arthur must have told him what happened, the sacrifice he had paid to give them a fighting chance, and he could see both pity and gratitude as they looked upon who must be the savior of the city.

Merlin was disgusted.

But he bent over the map, looking over their plans and nodding in understanding. "This looks good. I can cast a protective spell over the city to keep any projectiles or dark magic from entering, but I'm afraid that they will be able to use their powers hand to hand. All I can do is ensure we don't have to deal with the fire balls—if my strength can last. When I weaken, the spell will fail, and the city will be defenseless against a bulk magic attack. So, you must ensure that you push them out before then."

"Understood." Arthur took a deep breath and looked at the remaining knights and generals. "You know your jobs. Complete them, and may whichever god you believe in stand with you."

The men rushed out, leaving Merlin alone with the King.

"What would you have me do, my lord?"

"Send your druids with the armies, and let them protect the city as they see fit. I have no place to command them. As for the dragons," Arthur smiled grimly, "ask them to rain hell on the armies outside the gates."

The warlock nodded, eyes glowing gold as he relayed the message.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Our armies can protect against their forces, even if they may be magical. But we don't stand a chance against the combined force of Morgause and Nimueh."

"And Morgana," Merlin said softly. "With both high priestesses healing her, there is no doubt that she will join the fray tomorrow. I do not fear Morgause and Nimueh as I do Morgana. She is the most powerful."

"But not more powerful than you."

Merlin's lips curled upward. "Yes. Not more powerful than me. However, I'll have to fight her before, during, or after facing Morgause and Nimueh, and that in itself is no realistic task."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't know. I can try."

Arthur nodded, looking at Merlin with his heart in his throat. The dark-haired man was so still, head slightly bowed, the very vision of obedience. Arthur hated it. There was something wrong with the picture before him, something so terribly wrong that it chilled his blood. He knew Merlin was breaking under his stony façade, if he wasn't already broken. The king knew that the only reason the warlock was holding it together was because Arthur needed him to, and the blonde wondered when the time would come when Merlin would not need to make sacrifices for him. A sudden urge to envelop the warlock into an embrace overpowered him, to shelter this man who was more powerful than him, to protect him, help glue his scattered pieces together, but he knew he could not. Merlin didn't need his comfort. He needed no one now, and Arthur understood. So all he did was nod and pat Merlin's arm in an attempt of solidarity, bidding him safety as Merlin left out the door and into the oncoming storm, the calm before the battle at dawn.

* * *

The wind was bitter and cold against his skin, icing over his steel armor. Standing alone on the tallest tower, Merlin scanned the city with cool blue eyes. Below him he could see the soldiers, like ants, running this way and that to where they needed to be. Already he could see the blockades rising in every street, blocking off the citadel, all but one entrance. Choking the battle into one small, cramped space was the intelligent thing to do; that way, they could hold the forces off for days, if not weeks. But it also meant that the fighting would be more hand to hand, more brutal, more bloody, heavier in casualties. Merlin knew Gwenivere was among them, sharpening her sword, refusing to travel to the forest and abandon Arthur and his city. _Their_ city, someday, perhaps if they managed to win. The warlock smiled at the thought. They deserved to be happy after so much anger, so much feuding. He knew that a day would come where there would be peace, but when it did, and at what a cost, was unknown to him.

"Emrys."

Merlin whirled around at his name, turning to see a familiar face. The druid who had spoken to him after he had escaped the Mine, the same gray-haired man, unchanged as he stood in bruised armor, held out a long white staff. It twisted like a spiral, long and old.

"It has been a long time," Merlin said softly.

"So you remember me."

"Of course."

The druid smiled, and offered the warlock the staff. "Here, this is my gift to you. It can help amplify your power, it was carved from the wood of an Elder tree, the last one in the world before the Purge burned it root and leaf. I hope it will help you in this time of need."

"Thank you."

"Be careful, Emrys. Do not throw away your life, for if you die Albion will fail, and the lands will burn. But take faith in your strength, for even now you do not fully comprehend the vastness of your powers."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, looking at the older man questioningly. "What do you mean? What have you seen?"

The druid shook his head. "I cannot tell you. Good luck."

With those words he disappeared, vanishing into thin air, leaving behind only a trace of smoke. Merlin looked down at the staff in his hands, caressing the soft, worn wood with careful fingers. He could feel it vibrating in his palms, its power turning his eyes gold and awakening his magic. Merlin smiled.

Turning to the edge of roof, he watched with careful eyes as the darkness began to lift, the stars falling from the sky and giving into a rising sun. It almost blinded him, mounting the edges of the horizon and shedding light on the army that approached the gates, as though traveling through the rays of the sun.

It was time.

* * *

Morgause looked up at Camelot, sword in one hand, reins in the other. She guided her white horse forward, the sun behind her, setting her blonde hair alight. Nimueh rode again by her side, face impassive as they rode at the head of their army.

The wind brushed her hair to the side, and with it she could hear a voice. Deep and resonating, the power echoed around her, and Morgause could see her army looking up to the sky warily.

Then, it exploded with a crash and a bang. A great white shield emanated from the citadel and enveloped the city in a dome. Morgause narrowed her eyes at the surface, like clear glass, turning and nodding to Nimueh.

They began to incant a spell, screaming the last words and hurtling a great spear of rippling lightning at the citadel. Electricity lighted up the surface, curling over the smooth surface, but not a crack interrupted the crystal-like facade. Morgause took a deep breath, mouth set in a snarl. _Emrys._

"Forward!" the blonde priestess shouted. "Leave none alive. The warlock is ours."

With those words, the army moved forward, passing through the clear spell and into the arms of the defenders.

* * *

Merlin wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he surveyed his handwork, smiling at Morgause and Nimueh's failed attempt to break his shield. Filling his lungs, the warlock watched as their army moved into the citadel, and from his perch, Merlin could see the armies colliding in an explosion of smoke, steel, and flashes of light.

Looking up, the dragonlord watched as Kilgarrah descended upon the roof, bending knee and letting Merlin climb onto his back.

Kilgarrah let out a terrible cry and descended into the city, the other dragons, hiding behind the turrets, joining them as they fell in surprise onto the army outside the city.

Billows of flame fell upon the soldiers, setting light to some and turning others to dust. The wind screamed past the warlock's face as he held on tightly to Kigarrah's golden scales, feeling the heat of the fire as it lit around him. When the dragon flew over the gate, Merlin could hear the cheers of the defenders through the din. Emboldened by the arrival of the dragons, Glendale and Camelot's knights pushed the attackers back into the burning field, the battle moving to the icy plain. As the dragons rose into the sky and curled around for a second attack, Merlin caught sight of Morgause and Nimueh just outside the walls, wreaking havoc with their potent magic. Flying in for the second attack, the dragonlord braced himself as they approached the high priestesses.

"NOW, KILGARRAH!" Merlin screamed, and the great dragon let out a wave of flame onto the two women. But when the flames cleared, Morgause and Nimueh were unscathed, Nimueh's shield fading away.

_Damn it, it was worth a try, t_he dragonlord thought grimly, pulling his leg over one side of the dragon and gripping tightly to his staff.

Then, Merlin jumped.

He landed poised and crouched, his descent sending ripples through the earth and leaving a crater in the ground—a great crater that Nimueh and Morgause were a part of.

The priestesses watched as the warlock straightened himself, looking nothing like the tear-stained boy they had found weeping in the throne room. Here was the Emrys they had been warned of, his eyes blue flames as he apprised the two of them, a staff clutched tightly in one hand.

"Where is Morgana?"

"Not here," Morgause snarled.

Merlin didn't have time to dwell on it, steeling himself and holding out his hand. "_Astrice!_"

Nimueh's blood red lips curled into a smile as she caught the golden light in her hand, circling her pale arm softly as she spoke.

"Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin. You may be Emrys, but you are still a young man. I am a priestess of the Old Religion, and I have been serving her since before your mother was born. I killed Igraine Pendragon and survived the pyres of the Purge. Powerful though you may be, you cannot hope to defy me. _Forbare!_"

A great ball of flame hurtled itself towards him, too fast for him to conjure a shield. Merlin threw himself to the side just in time, the fire (remove 'just') grazing his armor. Crashing to the ground, the warlock quickly got to his feet as Nimueh began to circle him, another globe of flame growing in her palm.

"You too are a creature of the Old Religion. Why you defy us still remains a mystery."

"You think I would join forces with such a cruel and selfish magic?" Merlin seemed to swell with fury, hands tightening on the ivory staff. His lip curled as he hissed, "Never."

Nimueh smiled, eyes lighting. "So be it."

The second ball of flame raced towards him, but this time, Merlin was prepared. Holding out his staff, his eyes burned gold as he conjured a shield, the projectile smashing against it.

Morgause, however, was never one for speaking with those whom she wanted dead.

Crouching to the ground the priestess chanted words and watched as the earth rippled under her command, lashing out at the warlock. Merlin raised the staff as he watched the dirt wave grow in size and sped toward him.

"_Ic þe bebiede þæt þu abifest nu_."

His earthquake shattered the wave, blasting it into bits as he slammed the staff into the ground. Merlin held out his hand and grasped the pieces in midair, letting them twirl like a twister before sending them like daggers to the sorceresses.

Nimueh dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

"How long are you going to keep playing, Merlin? she taunted as she set a wave of energy towards him, which he brushed to the side with equal contemptuous ease.

"I'm not the one playing," he gasped as he pulled up a shield from a joint attack by the priestesses.

Above them, the clouds were gathering as though sensing the magicians' violent intentions, the world joining in on the energizing magic and rumbling up in the heavens. Merlin avoided the quick projectiles the women were relentlessly sending him, falling to his knees to avoid a fireball that singed his hair. Looking up, eyes burning gold, he sent a wave of blinding-white energy blasting towards them. The priestesses were thrown back, winded as they lay on the ground. The warlock wasted no time, raising his arm and summoning water from the earth beneath his feet. When he had beside him a sizable projectile, Merlin laced it with flame and wind and sent it towards the priestesses.

Nimueh looked up just as it came at her and the priestess leapt in front of Morgause, putting up a shield just in time. The conjured missile shattered against the ward, an implosion that knocked her to her knees. When the fire and smoke faded away, Merlin watched as Nimueh struggled to her feet, bringing Morgause up with her. Both witches looked exhausted, but still began preparing their next fell incantation. Holding hands, they raised their other arms as one and screamed as they arched their backs and propelled the magic from their bodies, sending it at the warlock.

The shield he put up didn't hold.

Merlin was blasted back violently, flying half way across the busy battlefield until he crashed into the icy ground, shouting in agony as the collision broke a few ribs and tore through the flesh in his back, dislocating his shoulder. Lying upon the earth, winded, the warlock looked through the hazy world to the shield he had conjured around the citadel, watching as it began to grow holes that burned and flickered like his magic when he was broken.

Morgause and Nimueh appeared in front of him, hands raised towards his prone form. It gladdened him to see that the attack that had breached his defenses had affected them, too. Both priestesses looking haggard, wearied, but not entirely depleted. They sent fire towards him, and Merlin rolled to the side to avoid it, struggling to his feet. He could feel his magic surging through his veins, and Merlin turned to the tumbling clouds above him, staring up at their dark depths. Brow furrowed, he raised the staff in the air, stretching his broken side, his dislocated arm hanging uselessly like a tattered banner on a windless day. His eyes burned gold, and with a cry, he pulled a bolt of electric energy from the tremulous heavens. The lightening hit the staff, the energy running through his body and singing his nerves, inflaming his being in a moment of pure agony until he threw it toward the priestesses.

There was nowhere to hide.

Nimueh pushed Morgause away and stood in her place, the lightening hitting her square in the chest. Her scream sent earthquakes running through the battlefield, knocking hundreds of men to the ground. The electricity raced through her blood, singing every atom of her being until her body could take no more, and her magic let out its own wail of agony. Nimueh's head bent back at an unnatural angle, mouth wide open in a consistent shout of terrible pain as the lightening tore her apart. Her flesh melted from her bones, and when the electricity finally sated itself on her blood, all that was left of the priestess was an unrecognizable husk, blackened and smoking, a few red rags identifying it.

Morgause looked up from where she was lying on the ground, mouth and eyes wide open with shock as she stared at what was once Nimueh. Shaking her head in disbelief, she covered her mouth to try to stop the ragged cry that tore from her throat, eyes watering. She reached out towards the blackened husk, shaking.

Merlin seized the opportunity to take a rejuvenating breath. When finally the world stopped spinning, he raised his staff once more, pointing it at Morgause.

As he breathed out to say the spell, his words turned to mist, rising in the air. The temperature dropped tens of degrees, the frigid cold raising the hairs at the back of his neck. Merlin closed his eyes.

She was here.

* * *

_Some say the world will end in fire_, Morgana mused as she looked upon the burning battlefield and smoldering city. Flames licked the sky, and dragons that bellowed out heat flew and crushed the armies before her. The scarlet cloaks of Camelot's men were easy to catch, bright even against the ginger flames. Tiny fires licked the earth, as far as the eyes could see.

Morgana reached her hand towards the already battling heavens, the gray clouds turning indigo as they finally managed to mute the light of the sun that once shone through the raging storm. Now there was only darkness, and fire, daylight a long forgotten dream.

Tendrils of frost emerged from beneath her feet, reaching in quiet whispers across the plains and to the fighting armies until they began to crawl over the walls of Camelot. The reinforcements she brought with her began to walk steadily forward, crunching through a newly forming blanket of snow that preceded them. Large wolves howled into the night, leading the procession, and soldiers watching on got goosebumps not only from the cold.

The angry clouds above her calmed, snow beginning to fall from their swollen bellies, and, eyes glowing gold, the high priestess reached her hand towards the sky. Commanding with a string of foreign words, the heavens began to obey her. Power threaded through her body, a burst of euphoria in the dark. Once again they began to thunder, dropping ice onto the army before her, both her friends and her foes. Morgana didn't care who the ice speared. Lightening crackled, falling upon the mass of soldiers, upon the citadel, breaking through the spotted shield and taking chunks out of the marble-white citadel. Morgana looked up, eyes burning gold, snapping her fingers.

Every flame before her went out.

A gust of frigid wind howled, turning her hair into a raven halo. The wolves snarled.

Then silence.

_Some say the world will end in fire,_Morgana mused, N_o. It will not. The world will end in ice._

* * *

Arthur looked to the horizon, heart plummeting as he saw hundreds of fresh enemy regiments riding towards them. The frigid cold froze the sweat on his skin and made it difficult to breathe, the darkness consuming the once flaming battlefield. Above him he could hear the dragons roaring until they finally landed upon the ground, crouching between the bulk of the defender's army and the enemies that fled back to regroup with Morgana and her men. Wolves the size of horses, howling and snarling, padded quietly forward, and the king could have sworn that he could see wicked smiles upon their great heads as they took in the sight of the dragons.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur screamed, as loud as he could, clear voice echoing through the suddenly silent plain.

"FOR ALBION!"

A chorus of voice rose to meet to him, and the armies leapt forward, clashing together like lightening.

* * *

Merlin smiled at Arthur's voice, turning his attention back the priestess before him. Morgause was getting to her feet, shakily, but a fury rippled off her body as he appraised him.

"You will die this day."

"I don't think so." With that, Merlin sent a wave of energy towards her, blasting the weakened woman meters away. He limped to her side, standing over her, hand outstretched. For the first time in a long while, he could taste sweet victory on his tongue.

Then he was violently thrown against the marbled wall of Camelot's citadel.

Merlin let out a scream as his body met the jagged stone, a broken shard that jutted from the surface ripping his armor and shredding the flesh on his thigh. Sliding limply down to the scorched earth, he landed face down, and lay there, shuddering. Only after several moments did Merlin prop himself up on shaking arms, and pull himself up to his hands and knees, the icy snow biting at the bare flesh of his palms.

Just as he moved to rise, a sharp kick to the face jerked his head back, and he fell again into the snow. A sharp foot pressed into the small of his back, keeping the sorcerer down.

"You betrayed me," she hissed.

"You betrayed us."

"You killed Nimueh."

"You started this war."

"And I will end it," Morgana reached down and lifted him from the collar of his shirt so that he knelt on his knees before her, face bleeding, head hanging. She pulled back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Merlin lost count.

But he couldn't retaliate.

Breathing was difficult, a sharp pain in his chest informing him that several of his ribs were broken, and his magic was finally bowing down to the pressure. Through the haze, Merlin felt cold iron brace itself against his neck. Looking up with swollen eyes, the warlock finally looked at her.

Morgana was cold, her jade eyes like ice, red lips faded like winter's leaves. Her skin was so pale, her hair black as midnight, tangled and terrible. Dark circles riddled her eyes. There was no pity left in them, no love.

Merlin felt hope slip away to seek shelter elsewhere, abandoning him to his fate.

But fate, it would seem, would not be so fickle.

"Step away from him."

"No," Merlin choked as Morgana turned, hand letting go of his collar, the warlock falling back to the ground in a heap. A smirk blossomed on her marble features.

The priestess appraised the woman before her, Gwenivere doing the same. Wearing gilded armor and wielding a bloody sword, strands of dark brown hair falling from the braid that once held it, the queen was almost recognizable. But whatever fear lingered in her chestnut eyes didn't show on her determined façade, every so often casting looks at her fallen friend.

Without warning, Morgana leapt into attack.

Their blades met, the sound ringing through the din, Morgana's strength jarring Gwen's hands. The queen was sent backwards as she desperately tried to hold back Morgana's blows.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

"It's not what you've done but what you are destined to do. I'm sorry Gwen, but I can't let that happen."

Morgana twirled her sword around Gwen's blade, the queen's sword flying through the air. Her arms widened as the sorceress's steel balanced before her breast. After a moment, she wrenched her hand back, preparing to run the blade through the caramel-skinned woman's heart.

But she was blasted back before she could do such a thing.

Merlin strode forward on shaking feet, blood running down his dirtied features, his staff—more of a walking stick than a weapon—in his working hand. Just as he prepared to face Morgana, he was stopped by a sharp pain in his back.

His magic retaliated, and with a cry it blasted from his body, the earth shaking. Turning around weakly, Merlin watched as Morgause crashed against the wall of the citadel, the scream that she let out stopping as her neck snapped at the collision, broken body leaving a trail of blood as it slid down the white wall.

"No!" Morgana shrieked, the wind suddenly howling around them so powerfully that soldiers were pulled from their feet and sent flying. Merlin's eyes burned gold, and with a snap of his fingers, the furious wind died as swiftly as it had come, leaving them in eerie silence.

Merlin looked up at Morgana, tears falling from her jade eyes in both agony and despair.

"You don't have to do this," the warlock said softly, looking up at her.

"I do," Morgana replied, khol lined eyes burning with fury.

"Please, after everything we've been through together."

"It means nothing anymore. You made that quite clear."

"You betrayed me. You had me tortured and locked in a dungeon," Merlin spat.

"If you hate me so much, then, why are you here?" the priestess challenged. "Why not kill me and stop trying to reason?"

"Because I still love you. "

"But I don't love you."

"You're lying."

"ENOUGH. The time for useless words is over," Morgana walked forward, eyes lighting gold.

The warlock sighed, but his stance stiffened. "What? You'd prefer me to try and kill you?"

"Oh no, you won't kill me, but that doesn't mean I won't kill you."

"Don't do this. Don't make me do this," Merlin begged, one final plea.

"Good bye," Morgana whispered. "You are nothing to me anymore."

With that, she sent a wave of fire towards him, and Merlin braced himself for what was sure to be their final battle.

The warlock deftly captured the flames, smothering them with a softly spoken spell. Holding out his staff, he directed a bolt of lightning to his former lover. Morgana sidestepped, avoiding his offensive. And so the battle went in a manner such as that, bursts of energy and fire and water and ice and lightening, a swift dance of rapid spells and shields, of turning and spinning and ducking that spelled death and illuminated the darkness. The armies struggled, killing and maiming as Morgana's forces tried to enter the citadel and Arthur's forces tried to push them back. It was a stand-still, neither side advancing, hundreds falling. The passage of time was lost in darkness and sound and blood, flames and lightening the only brightness before the citadel.

And then, all of a sudden, the tide of war turned.

With Morgause and Nimueh dead, Merlin and Morgana busy unleashing their fury in a collision of power that matched that of the gods, the soldiers fought their own war, unhindered by the awesome powers that always wrote the fate of the day. Arthur and Gwen's forces pushed the enemies from the citadel, shoving them away from the city and into the barren field.

Merlin and Morgana did not notice, too consumed in their own private war, the magic that they brushed off reaping casualties in such a way that they were given a wide berth of space. The warlock fell to the ground as he avoided her most recent bout of energy, an idea lighting his weakened mind. Whispering a spell under his breath as he got to his feet, he raised his arms and head towards the snowing skies, golden eyes burning ever brighter, ripping from his slim and broken form a power he hadn't thought himself capable of.

"_Ic her accigie ænne windraes! Færblæd waw! Windræs ungetermed: ge hier! Ic de bebeod mid ealle strangesse daet du geblawest ond syrmest strange! Gespurn peos haegtesse!"_

Great whirlwinds descended from the sky, twisting madly and approaching Morgana, nothing slowing them. Any spells she tried to call out were in vain, and when the winds finally fell upon her, there was nowhere to run. She was pulled into the icy gusts, taken up into the air where she was held while the wind battered and broke her bones. When at last they threw her from their wicked embrace, Morgana fell to the earth with such speed and power that the ground gave way to her form, ripping a harsh scream from her lips.

Merlin stumbled towards her, trying to ignore the exhaustion that weakened him as his magic dwindled away. The once pristine shield that protected the city now fell, the magic ripping and peeling and breaking away from the surface, floating down like ash upon the battlefield. Staggering before her, Merlin finally reached her side, looking down upon her broken form.

A trickle of blood fell from her lips, ivory skin marred with scarlet, her chest heaving, green eyes glazed with pain. Morgana met his gaze, their eyes meeting as he raised his hand above her, all in silence.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do it. My destiny and my doom, it was written before we were born. So go on, listen to Lady Fate. Let me die by your hand and follow the destiny that you have clung to so tightly."

Merlin clenched his jaw, mind racing. Around him he could hear the sound of the fight dying down, Morgana's forces scattering and disappearing into the woods, Albion's forces quickly disposing of those who still fought, disarming those who surrendered. He knew the spell. It was at the tip of his tongue, simple, quick. Painless.

The warlock stepped back, whistling, the sound clear and low, carrying on the wind.

A white horse, flank covered in the blood of its previous owner, trotted towards the pair. It went to stand before Morgana. Another whistle bade it to lay down, and it obeyed

Eyes not leaving Merlin's, the priestess rolled over, arm reaching over the stallion's back. With painful gasps of breath, Morgana managed to pull herself into the saddle, leaning heavily forward. After a few muttered words, the steed heaved itself back to its feet.

"_Go_," Merlin cried out, his voice ripping out of his torn throat. To his horror he could feel tears warming his eyes as he looked up at her. "_Leave_. If you ever attack Camelot again, I will kill you. "

Morgana's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly straightened her back and the jade turned to ice once more. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but no words came out. With one final look at him, the priestess pushed the horse forward and the two galloped away, out of sight.

And like that, Morgana was gone. So sudden, without a fanfare. Simply gone. And somehow, they had won. Victory was theirs, yet the feeling it normally brought didn't warm his heart. He simply felt cold and numb and empty, stretched and tired and weak.

The warlock let out a ragged breath, leaning heavily on his staff. He closed his eyes, exhaustion numbing the pain of his battered body.

"Merlin?"

Turning slowly, the sorcerer watched as Arthur approached him, sword sheathed, armor smattered with scarlet.

"Gwen?"

"She's all right. A few cuts, but she will be fine."

Arthur walked towards him, hesitating as Merlin stiffened. "Let me help you."

After a moments silence, Merlin relaxed. His friend reached over, putting a hand under his shoulder and allowing the warlock to lean against his strong frame. When the warlock winced, Arthur looked to his back, eyes widening at the blood. Gingerly, he pulled off his glove and touched the man's lower back, fingers coming back stained red.

"What is it?' Merlin hissed through his clenched teeth.

"A stab wound," Arthur replied, not bothering to lie to him.

The warlock nodded. "Morgause."

With the name his body sagged, pulling down Arthur with him. The king gently pulled the warlock into his arms, hands ghosting over the bloodied and broken body.

"MEDIC!" he screamed. "SOMEBODY HELP US!"

"I let her go," Merlin whispered, looking up unseeingly into the sky. "I let her go. I couldn't kill her."

"Stay still," Arthur croaked as the warlock shifted.

"I know she'll come back, I'll know I'll pay for it, you'll pay for it, Albion will pay for it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. How could I still love her after all this, even after she hates me? I'm such a fool. I'm so sorry, Arthur, I could have ended this war once and for all, but I wasn't strong enough. I'm so sorry…"

"No, don't say that," the king replied, looking around wildly for any help, then screaming out again.

The warlock ignored him, a small tear leaking from his clouded blue eyes. "I wish she was here. She's always here. Where is she? I need her here with me. Morgana…"

"Come on," Arthur shook the man's shoulders. "Stay with me, old friend…"

Arthur's voice faded away into silence, with it the sound of the battle and the world around him, and Merlin's vision darkened. In the oncoming gloom, the warlock could have sworn he felt a familiar hand caressing his cheek, gentle and loving. He could have sworn he saw a pair of bright green eyes looking upon his face, ruby lips pressing against his consolingly,their touch comforting and soft.

With a soft smile on his lips, Merlin closed his eyes.

**(puts hands in the air) Shall Merlin live? Shall Merlin die? What will happen to our tragic lovers? Hmmmm I wonder...**

**(as always, reviews are brilliant and they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, compliments and criticism remind me people actually read this story which I have forged with my sweat, tears, and blood, and make the writing process easier! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE SILENT READERS! Don't worry, my bark is worse than my bite!)**

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!**

**-ladywarlock**


	23. Lionheart

**This is a tiny chapter compared to what I normally give you, but it's rather important! I can't believe it's here, but this is the second to last chapter of _Raven's Darling_ and I'm in the process of writing the conclusion. And so, from now, I'd like to thank you! 152 and 70 followers! You guys are brilliant and I hope I get to hear from you now that we can taste the end!**

_**Impossible: James Arthur**_

**ENJOY (I hope you like it)**

Arthur's face paled as the wretched scream reached his ears.

Standing in front of the physician's room, the king was pacing back and forth, features whitening with every cry from within. A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder.

"She's going to be alright—"

"But she's _screaming_—"

"And that is normal during childbirth. I've seen Gaius deliver many babes, and what is happening sounds normal."

"But—"

"Breathe, Arthur."

The king's shoulders sagged before he turned to look at his friend.

"I'm glad you're here, Merlin."

His friend gave him a crooked smile in response. "Where else would I be?"

_"Come on," Arthur shook the man's shoulders. "Stay with me, old friend…"_

_With a soft smile on his lips, Merlin closed his eyes._

"Nowhere," Arthur replied softly, stiffening at a long scream from inside accompanied by several shouts, and then, the sound of a baby's wailing. The sound was deafeningly loud and beautiful, the crying followed by breathless laughter from within the room.

Merlin could have sworn he saw tears in Arthur's eyes.

The door opened to a smiling Gaius. "Come on in, Arthur."

Walking slowly into the room, the king's eyes wandered before finally landing on Gwenivere on the bed, hair wet with sweat, holding to her breast a tiny white bundle. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

"A girl," she told him gently.

Arthur's mouth opened, dumbstruck, before Merlin pushed him forward towards his wife. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he peered past the swath of blankets and saw the largest blue eyes he had ever set eyes upon.

"She's beautiful," Arthur whispered as he looked down at his daughter, breaking his gaze only to lean over and kiss Gwen lightly on the brow.

"What shall we name her?" the queen asked.

"How about Aurora, a symbol of a new dawn on our lives," Arthur replied, and Gwen nodded.

"It's perfect."

Arthur looked up at Merlin questioningly, and the warlock nodded. The king smiled, turning to his queen and fixing her with a gaze, and Gwen's eyes twinkled.

"Merlin, Gwenivere and I would like to ask a favor of you."

"Anything."

The blonde-haired man paused for a moment, as though searching his mind for the right words, finally speaking with a barely contained smile. "We would like to name you Aurora's godfather, if that is fine by you."

Looking at them agape, Merlin's eyes widened. "I…I can…I'd be honored," the warlock finally managed to stutter, and Gwenivere laughed. She beckoned him to come closer, and Merlin sat next to Arthur on the bed, taking in the sight of his godchild with a mixture of shock and awe.

"Welcome to the family, magical farmboy," Gwenivere whispered.

Later that night, Merlin slipped away to give the new family some privacy. It seemed fitting that the princess's name day was the two year anniversary of the Siege on Camelot, and that night when Merlin visited Morgana's room as refuge from the nightmares. In a week would be the celebration of Aurora's birth, and the warlock fell asleep thinking of what gift he would bestow upon her.

* * *

The court was always so cold. So bitter. So desolate. No matter how many colorful garments filled the room, no matter the strength of the perfume that floated off impeccably dressed ladies, the hall lacked warmth. But it wasn't always like this. Not when the baby princess was first born, when nothing could be heard but laughter within the walls of the citadel. Aurora Pendragon was adored from the moment she took her first breath, and the kingdom celebrated the birth of the heir to the throne of Camelot with their sovereigns.

Arthur and Gwenivere Pendragon were never happier.

In celebration of her birth, the king and queen threw a great party, and as the court warlock, Emrys, stood by the cradle, preparing to bestow on the child a blessing, the room grew suddenly frigid. The great doors flew open and from the darkness walked in the high priestess Morgana. Before anyone could retaliate, she cast a terrible spell on the girl, and Aurora was cursed to an eternal slumber. But Emrys was clever and quick, retaliating with another, so that true love's first kiss could break the terrible curse.

The screams were loud and shrill, the banished sorceress disappearing into smoke before anyone could do anything, shock written plainly on their faces. Gwenivere cried out as she tried to wake her daughter, yet the babe remained still and motionless, utterly ignorant of the world beyond her cursed sleep.

That night there was only darkness.

* * *

Merlin looked down sadly at the young child below him, fast asleep, chest rising and falling softly. His godchild looked as though nothing was wrong in her tiny world, as though in two minutes time she would wake, her blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him.

But she would not wake, not until her true love came to kiss her.

But a babe had not the chance to fall in love.

But Merlin knew that.

The warlock gently placed the scroll next to the sleeping child, leaning down and kissing her tenderly on the forehead.

"You will be with your parent's soon, Aurora, I promise you that. But, though you won't remember me, I want you to do me a favor. Perhaps your sleeping mind could retain this message in some way. Fall in love for me, Aurora, and whoever he is, make sure you hold on to him, and him to you. Life is so much simpler that way. Goodbye, princess."

Emrys looked around the nursery, taking in the moonlight that seeped in through the sheer curtains, the candles outside the window that were lit by the people as a sign of their solidarity. He and Arthur had been determined in making the furniture themselves, the crib that the child slept in the toil of many sleepless nights. Merlin had enchanted the roof of the room to look like the sky out the window, that way the princess could sleep always under the stars.

He took a deep breath, slipping away quickly before Gwen returned to spend the night with her child. Returning to the empty throne room, where only hours ago they had stood in celebration, Merlin closed his eyes. Below his feet were the cracked stems and petals of flowers, left by the screaming visitors, the banners and ribbons decorating the columns and ceiling torn and blown away by the strength of the curse.

Merlin's magic reached out into the room, catching the feel of Morgana's familiar abilities. It had been two years, but still her brand of magic was more distinctive to him than his own. Eyes glowing gold, the warlock disappeared into white smoke, following the trail his former lover had left behind.

* * *

_My dear Gwenivere,_

_By the time you read this I will be gone, and I know you will send Arthur to find me. It will be of no use. I will have your daughter returned to you, I promise you that. I know were you here you would beg me not to throw my life away, that I am as dear to you as Aurora. But as always, I would contradict you. Aurora is your daughter, an innocent child who doesn't deserve to be a victim of our long feud, a feud that __is of my doing. __She should not have to suffer for our past, and so I go to find Morgana to speak sense into her. Chances are I won't return. However, my life is forfeit. Both Morgana and I were born and raised creatures of war, it is unsurprising that we cannot __exist__together,__in __peace. But this is better. Without us, you can live your lives free of power and corruption and darkness. I know you will long for me to be with you, as I long to be amongst you too, but know this, my dear Gwenivere, that I have loved you and I have believed in you from the start. I know you will be a wonderful mother, better even than the queen that you are. I would only ask you to not steel your heart against magic, to never forget that it is not magic that is corrupt, but those who wield it. Help my people flourish, and build the world that we dreamt of. And above all else, cherish her. Cherish your family and hold on to them, protect them, and value every moment with those you love._

_Goodbye, princess,_

_Merlin_

Gwenivere looked up from the paper in her hands, finger shaking and tears flowing down her face.

"ARTHUR!"

* * *

The warlock walked up slowly to the tall grey castle, deep within the darkest tangles of the woods. He realized that they were not too far from Camelot, and Merlin wondered how Morgana had managed to escape his notice being so close to home. He could feel the wards dampening his magic, but Merlin knew he would not need it. Black-clad knights raced towards him, spears leveled at his chest, and the warlock almost laughed at the fear so clearly evident in their eyes. It seemed that his reputation preceded him. He raised his arms above his head, allowing them to chain his hands and feet, a musty burlap bag thrown over his head before finally dragging him into the cold tower.

They pushed him hard to his knees, the frigid, uneven flagstones biting into the thin cloth of his pants. The hood was torn off his head, leaving him disorientated and dizzy for a moment before his eyes focused.

And then he saw her.

Despite knowing that she was the enemy, Merlin couldn't help but feel relief upon seeing her well. When she had interrupted their gathering, he hadn't the chance to see how the years had fared her. Morgana was still as beautiful as always, yet there was no denying that the time away from the warm halls of citadels had worn her down. Her once silky hair was now in tangles, resting around her like a halo of ebony, stark against her terribly pale face. Like ivory, her face was chiseled from stone, her features somewhat gaunt. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her lips chapped and pale, like the sole surviving rose deep in winter, the jade of her gaze like blades as she assessed him. Yet, despite it all, she was Morgana, and she was living and breathing only feet away from him.

The silence in the room was deafening as they studied each other. Finally it was Merlin who spoke, voice echoing in the cold, empty hall.

"I've missed you."

Standing up, Morgana walked slowly towards him, a slight sway in her hips, boots click-clacking on the stone floor.

She slapped him hard across the face.

His cheek stung as his head reeled back from the blow, Merlin tasting blood at the strength of it. Morgana returned to her stone throne, draping her body across it with ease.

"You shouldn't have come here, Emrys."

"Why, Morgana?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you cast the curse? She's an innocent child, barely a week old, and you fell just short of killing her. Have you fallen so deep into darkness and desperation that you would hurt a babe to reach your ends?"

"Two long years I've spent alone, in gloom, in the shadows of Albion's glory. I nearly died, and many times I wanted to, but somehow I survived. Did you honestly think that I would give up so easily? I've been planning this since I heard that dear Gwenivere was pregnant, and now, finally, I have triumphed. My brother and his queen will be heartbroken, open to attack. Now I only have to wait while Albion is weakened from outside, since now inside it is poisoned."

Merlin shook his head. "What has become of you? What happened to the caring girl who used to spend hours in druid tents trying to heal the wounded?"

"She grew up."

The warlock closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Remove the curse from her, please."

"Have the years dulled your mind, lover? You know that I cannot break a curse as powerful as a sleeping spell."

"I know, I do not ask that you break it, but I know that sleeping curses can be transferred upon another victim."

Morgana's eyes widened slightly as she looked down at him in shock. "You would take her burden?"

"Yes."

"And why should I allow you?"

"Because she has never wronged you, and while she may be the daughter of your enemy, she is still an innocent babe that deserves a chance to live. I, on the other hand, am soaked red with guilt, black with sin. I have wronged you, and many others, and so I should face the consequences of our long feud."

"You know you will never wake."

"Perhaps, but there was a loophole in your spell. I cast a change upon it, altering the curse ever so slightly, allowing it to break at true love's kiss."

"Then for sure you will never wake."

Merlin smiled softly, looking down at the ground before her feet. "So be it."

Morgana stood and walked stiffly towards him, reaching out and taking his chin, pulling it up so her eyes met his. They were bottomless cobalt, and the priestess found herself lost in his familiar gaze. The years had done him well, his features more adult and chiseled, muscles clearly defined through his simple cloth shirt. He wore a soft blue scarf as he always did, but he was not as clean shaven as he had been so many years ago. Somehow over the course of two years, they had grown, and Morgana steeled her heart.

"So be it," she echoed.

Nodding to her guards, Morgana led him up the stairs and into a room high in the tower, her soldiers roughly dragging him the whole way up, but the warlock didn't utter a sound.

When finally they reached their destination, Morgana had them release him from his chains, and Merlin massaged his hands where the iron links had chaffed them. A bruise was already forming on his cheekbone from where she had struck him.

"Lie down." Morgana gestured to a stone table in the middle of the room, runes etched along its sides.

After appraising it for a moment, the warlock obliged, slowly pulling himself onto the hard stone and leaning his head back, looking up at the old ceiling above him. The priestess circled him, approaching him after a moment and considering his still form.

Suddenly, Merlin pulled himself up and wrenched her down towards him, their lips meeting in a vicious kiss. He bruised her lips as he brought her closer to him, Morgana frozen in shock before moving at the familiar touch. Merlin forced his way into her mouth and tasted her, body humming at how tightly her body was pressed against his. Heat rippled down their bodies, and Morgana could feel the desperation in his kiss.

She finally pushed him away, slapping him hard across the face and conjuring chains to secure him to the table.

He was breathing hard as he looked up at her, face flushed and eyes fevered, and Merlin took special pleasure in seeing that Morgana was in the same state.

So it would seem that she had missed him too.

But before he could think any further, the sorceress began to chant foreign words, eyes glowing gold.

Then there was a sharp pain in his chest, and the warlock cried out, back arching off the hard stone as he pushed against his iron bonds. When finally Morgana was finished with her spell, he fell back upon the cold surface, eyes glazed.

Morgana gently stroked Merlin's face as she watched his eyes droop.

"So it seems, Emrys, that you will not be my doom after all."

Those bright blue eyes closed and his breathing slowed, and the warlock fell into a cursed sleep before he could utter a reply.

The silence was terrible as she looked down upon his prone body, reaching out and feeling for his heart, its rhythmic thudding somehow comforting, and Morgana's hand involuntarily spread over his chest at the warmth. Asleep and looking so peaceful, the priestess could almost forget the hell they had been through. She was surprised at how fast she had defeated him, her greatest foe, her destined bane, and then she remembered that he had not fought back.

Except for the kiss.

Morgana could still taste him on her lips, feel his bruising warmth against her body. It made her feel weak to know that she could be so easily swayed by his touch, by the love he had that never seemed to run out. Gingerly, she reached out and took the scarf from around his neck and brought it to her face, breathing in the familiar scent. Even after all this time, it was soothing. She dismissed the feeling. He was her enemy and she'd just ended him. Morgana should be celebrating. But yet, she still held the worn fabric tightly in her hand. She remembered hearing once that Gwen had given it to him, once very long ago, when they had first met.

The priestess walked out of the room and down the stairs, and then a sudden scream startled her.

Arthur, with him Percival, Gwaine, and a druid that must have led them here, were down in the throne room. The king had seen her, or more importantly, what she held in her hand.

"YOU MONSTER! EVEN AFTER ALL YOU'VE DONE HE STILL LOVED YOU, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM?"

"I suggest you leave, Arthur," Morgana replied coldly. "You know you cannot fight against me now, not while I have him. Go, spend some time with your daughter. Merlin may have sacrificed himself for her but his is the only one I'll accept, and you can be sure I'll be seeing her again."

The king leapt forward, Gwaine and Percival holding him back. "No, Arthur—"

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Arthur struggled against the hands pulling him away from her. "HURT HIM AND I SWEAR I WON'T REST UNTIL I KILL YOU!"

"Go, Arthur. Your lionheart made his choice, leave before his sacrifice is in vain."

* * *

A soft gurgling returned Gwen to reality, having lost herself in her dim thoughts. Looking down, the queen watched as her daughter's eyes opened, a small hand reaching for her face.

Gwenivere couldn't breathe.

She let out a choked sob, looking up at the transfigured roof, body shaking as tears fell down upon the baby in her arms.

Aurora began to cry.

**what did you think my lovely readers? We have finally merged with the beginning! WOO HOO! **

**One final question: Who is the Raven's Darling?**

**YOU'LL FIND OUT NEXT TIME! Feel free to take a guess and post it in a review and I'll give a cyber sundae to whoever manages to figure it out!**

**-ladywarlock**


	24. Raven's Darling--The End

**Wow did this take me a long time to write. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF RAVEN'S DARLING. It's scary, i'm actually terrified and sad and excited at the same time. It took me a while because I hate endings and I wanted to give you guys a memorable last chapter. It's resulted in a whopping chapter, the longest chapter which I suppose is fitting considering it's the last chapter. Well, my thank you is at the bottom, but if you don't feel like reading it: thank you for reading and I've had a lot of fun. **

_**Arms: Christina Perry (kinda perfect for this chapter)**_

**So, without further ado. **

**The last chapter of Raven's Darling!**

"Come on!"

"We shouldn't be here, Father would—"

"He won't find out, come on!"

The eldest boy continued to jiggle the knob, a hairpin deep inside the lock. Aurora watched unhappily as he struggled to open the door, looking down disapprovingly at his crouched form. Sara, the youngest, clutched Aurora's lilac dress, peeking out behind the folds at her brother. She was four, long chestnut hair curly and soft.

"Here, let me try," Merlin shoved his older brother out of the way, Jaime crossing his arms as the brown-haired boy fiddled with the lock.

It opened with a _snap_ and the four Pendragon children jumped.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Aurora asked tentatively as Merlin slowly began to open the door.

"What, scared her ghost will haunt you while you're brushing your hair?" Jamie replied jauntily with a wide grin—a grin that faded when his older sister smacked him, the girl shoving him out of the way to follow Merlin. The two were just over a year apart, yet still managed to look almost like squabbling twins; tall with golden hair and bronze skin matched with bright blue eyes, Aurora at thirteen and Jamie at twelve. Merlin, having just turned eight, and Sara shared their complexion and eyes, however had hair that matched their mother's.

The door emitted a ghastly shriek, making Merlin hesitate for half a heartbeat, but then he opened it all the way, trying to be bold in the presence of his siblings.

It wasn't what they were expecting.

They had thought to find pots and jars for spells, chains and magical items adorning barren stone walls. But instead it looked just like a girl's room, not any different than Aurora's. A sheer canopy covered a large bed in the center of the room, a vanity next to the window, pins strewn across its surface, a bejeweled hairbrush resting on the dusty desktop. Gowns still slung from a screen, painted wood etched with flowery detailing. If it wasn't for the layer of dust over everything, they would've thought someone lived here.

"It looks like she never left," Jaime whispered, all former bravado gone. "It was probably too painful for them to change anything, too many memories."

Aurora picked up the hairbrush gingerly. Long black threads of hair were still caught in it.

"They say she was beautiful."

"Yes, they say she could kill a man with a kiss and drive him mad with less," Jaime said theatrically, looking down darkly at his youngest sister, wagging his eyebrows as she watched him wide-eyed.

"Well she was powerful enough to defeat Emrys," Merlin muttered, looking around the room curiously.

"No, not really. They say when they fought against each other at the Siege of Camelot the earth shook beneath them. Lightening fell from the sky and it seemed as though heaven was going to crash and fall and burn upon them all. But, he defeated her. Emrys was the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived, and he saved the day. He sent her away, banishing her into exile never to return—until, of course, she came back." The room was quiet, the siblings engrossed in Jaime's familiar story. It was Sara who finally spoke up, voice ringing like a silver chime.

"But they loved each other, didn't they?"

"Yes."

The four siblings spun around to see their mother standing by the doorway. However, she wasn't looking at them, instead regarding the room with a slightly breathless gaze. Gwenivere walked slowly into the chambers, dark navy gown trailing on the dusty stone.

"Even as they fought on that battlefield, they loved each other."

"Then why were they fighting?" Sara asked, large eyes wide with fascination.

Gwen smiled down at her youngest. " They took different paths, chose to fight for different sides. Destiny ripped them apart, and the two greatest magi were powerless to stop it."

"Did he love her, even after he sent her away?" Aurora asked with a small voice.

"Yes," Gwenivere replied with a smile, looking out into space. "I used to find him here, sitting on the edge of her bed. Just sitting, eyes closed. In those moments I could swear he was seeing her, and he would smile, hands clasped together so tightly in his lap that his knuckles turned stark white. I once asked him why, why he returned here. He answered that he remembered her best in this room...But no one, not even he, could bear to look through her old things—even tidy up. This room remains unchanged from the day she left for battle and never returned."

"Do you…do _you_ still love her, Mother?" Her eldest daughter looked up at her hesitantly, afraid she may have ventured into forbidden territory. Gwen had never told them so much about her before with such openness, and Aurora didn't want to set her off.

The queen paused, moving a stray blonde hair behind her daughter's ear. "After what she did to you I thought I would hate her till the end of my days. But I don't, not anymore. You see, not all the stories they tell you are true. We used to love each other, me, your father, Merlin, and Morgana—destiny, though, didn't seem to approve. Do I still love her, after all she's done? Yes. She was like a sister to me, and I used to dream about how our children would grow up together in this very castle, how we'd be one family. Alas, fate is a cruel mistress."

"Where is she now?" Sara asked.

Gwen picked up her youngest daughter and looked into her blue eyes. "I don't know, darling. I really don't know."

* * *

The air was cold, so bitterly cold that every breath was a dagger in the chest. Chafed wrists sent trails of blood down pale arms, itchy and painful, but she couldn't tend to them. Chains, colder than the air and etched with runes that sent bolts of lightning down her body whenever her eyes flared gold, sliced into the sensitive skin of her wrists. Her hands grasped nothing as she screamed with agony in the darkness.

It was the black that hurt more than the new and old scars, the bruises and broken bones. A darkness that consumed all, that made the light she so longed for torturous to see. And for days it was only her and the darkness. And, of course, Aithusa. The beautiful dragon that had found her years ago now screeched with her as her bones were deformed by the tight space, her abused body pressing hard into Morgana's and cracking ribs.

Only rarely did her captor ever come, and when he did, he brought with him guards with clubs and swords and searching hands. Sometimes she didn't mind, because at least in the agony, she could be reminded she was more than a ghost - that beneath the numb, pained surface was a girl who screamed as they hurt her in any way they knew how.

Such loneliness, a deafening silence only broken by her rapid breathing and Aithusa's moans breaking the all-consuming quiet. How she longed to hear a voice, any voice, hear them talking. Laughing. Sometimes dreams caressed her, and she always clung to them whenever they chose to grace her thoughts. Dreams of warmth and sun-kissed skin, of love and joy. Occasionally they blurred into reality through the torture, a familiar hand squeezing her own, muttering words of comfort, invisible hands holding her close as she sobbed her way into unconsciousness.

But those were beginning to fade, faces she had once known so well distorting with a newly recognized madness. Features that once sparkled with light now edged with gloom, smiles turned to tears, and tears turned to anger and blood.

Sometimes she would laugh, a great laugh that startled the creature pressed against her and sent chills down the unseen guards up above. _Oh how the mighty have fallen_, she would call. How far they have fallen indeed. The most powerful lost in self destruction, the love diminished like the light in a once gentle heart.

It was a night, or a day-she could never tell-like any other when freedom chanced upon her. The guard was pressed up against her, hand trailing up her front, when suddenly she had an idea. Leaning forward and kissing him, the foolish man was taken by surprise and lust, wrapping his thick arms around her skeletal waist, his dagger cutting the skin of her side and making her let out a breathy gasp of pain. Breaking the touch, she reared her head back and hit him hard, so hard she saw stars, just like him, but desperation kept her from unconsciousness. Bracing herself, she whispered an almost forgotten spell. The pain was agonizing, but sheer determination and defiance kept her focused. The key on his waist slithered from the belt around his thick stomach, floating upwards before fitting into the locks on her manacles.

With a sharp sound they opened, and Morgana screamed at the agony of her arms as they were released at last. Taking a deep breath, she broke the chains around Aithusa, and the once white dragon, now blackened and bloodied, let out a roar and climbed her way up the darkness to freedom, Morgana clutching onto her. It was dark when she finally tasted fresh air, lungs greedily sucking in the sweetness of cleanliness, trying to rid themselves of the musty air of imprisonment.

Guards jumped in surprise, but Morgana only held up her hand, rage at the injustices done upon her commanding her magic as they were pulled apart, limb by limb, showering her in hot blood. Then she ran, as fast as she could, and did not look back.

She did not stop, though it took her many arduous days, until she reached it. Tall and foreboding, yet even after all these years, familiar. The once strong stone was now weathered, cracked and broken by storms she couldn't remember. A wild forest had grown around it, thick ivy branches wrapping their arms tightly around it, suffocating the tower. Aithusa, having followed her from the moment they escape their hell, mewled in fear and backed away, sensing something amiss. Morgana stumbled forward boldly, but the white dragon balked, spreading delicate wings and taking flight. She vanished into the darkness of the night sky.

Morgana stumbled inside the old tower, shattering her own sigils of protection and breaking open the rotting wood of the ancient door. Hand clutched to the still-seeping wound in her side, hastily wrapped in a makeshift bandage, she hastened up the creaking and broken stairs to the highest room.

As she staggered into the chamber like a drunkard, Morgana caught a sight of herself in an old, grimy mirror in the far corner. She let out a shuddering sigh at the tragedy she had become. For six years her beauty was left forgotten, beaten and used until she could no longer recognize the princess she had once been. Terribly snowy skin accentuated every cut and bruise, features blackened and sunk in, pale lips bitten and bleeding. Her torn gown barely hung onto her skeletal frame, gaunt and thin, sharp as though if you touched her, she would either cut you or fade away. Once silken hair was so knotted that its length was lost. Dirt covered every inch of her_._

_Morgana Pendragon, Morgana le Fey, where have you gone?_ she thought as she looked at the unrecognizable woman in her reflection.

But her attention didn't linger on her appearance for long.

Cobwebs stretched every which way, draping from the ceiling to the floor. All was filthy, dust coating everything...everything but him. It was almost as if the spell had kept him untouchable.

With warm tears that refused to stop streaming down her face, and sounds she couldn't choke down spilling from her lips, she stumbled towards the worn stone table in the center of the room. Falling to her knees before it, she rested her head against the cold, smooth stone. Wracking coughs shook her body, blood falling to the floor and leaving behind a stain as she looked up.

Age left lines in his face, but he still looked the same. His hair had not grown, neither had his nails, another perk of the spell, she supposed. Hands shaking and hesitant, she reached for him, grip tightening on the soft cloth of his tunic. She let out a cry of sorrow and pain, tears dripping onto his still form. Reaching up, she caressed his face, leaving behind trails of scarlet.

He was still warm.

Arms still shaking, she reached into the bodice of her dress, pulling out a small piece of fabric she kept close to her heart. The blue scarf was unrecognizable, torn and almost black, reeking of fear, torture, and blood.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she repeated through her sobs, unable to catch her breath.

_Where were you?_ Morgana could almost hear him say, voice laced with a worry.

"Imprisoned by Sarrum for six years. Funny, isn't it? Most powerful sorceress, the last priestess, it meant nothing when he took Aithusa. She's my dragon, you see, white as snow, but when he jailed her with me I couldn't escape. I wasn't strong enough…" she rambled, flesh feverishly hot.

Morgana fell quiet as he said nothing, looking at him, tracing the curves of his face, those ridiculous ears.

"I think I'm dying, Merlin," she whispered. "What has come of us, my love? What have we become? All we are now are stories, faded ghosts of a time of war and magic. Soon to turn to dust. Is there peace beyond this tower? What has come of Arthur and Gwenivere, I do not know. And it's all my fault. You should be with them, but instead my desire for vengeance sealed our fates. But my dear, I have paid the price." Morgana's head fell upon his chest, hearing the slow rhythmic beating of his heart.

_I have paid the price._

Rising on shaking feet, she bent over him and touched her lips to his. They were warm, warmer than hers. Morgana moved forward and kissed his brow gently, tears dripping from her lashes onto his, until finally she pulled away, swallowing another cry of agony. And with her bloody hand covering her side, she gave him one last look and disappeared.

* * *

He felt like he was drowning. Like he was deep in the arms of the ocean, and it was holding onto him so tightly he couldn't breathe, even as he struggled to the surface. Out of the darkness, out of the nothingness that he had been lost in. Alone in a curse, wrapped in silence, disembodied as countless hours, days, months, years passed away in solitude. But finally he could feel himself stirring, his heartbeat quickening. And for the first time and so long, he felt cold, he felt hard stone beneath him. He felt aware. Heart nearly bursting, he fought back the darkness.

And opened his eyes.

Cobwebs greeted his sight as Merlin struggled into consciousness. Cobwebs and sunlight. The rays flitted between the patterned thread, the fine lines beaded with lights. His eyes squinted against the brightness, and he coughed to clear his lungs of a layer of dust.

Shaking, he rose upon the altar, the feel of his body foreign and strange, as though they shouldn't belong to him. He lifted a hand, looking down at the pale, papery skin. Slowly moving his feet off the marble slab, Merlin tried to push himself onto his feet, walking one weak step before falling to the ground. The warlock took a deep breath, reaching for the wall and using it to pull himself up. Slowly, he ambled forward like a decrepit old man, passing by a weathered mirror. He was startled by the figure in the reflection.

_When did I stop being young?_ he thought as the figure in the mirror looked back at him with equal surprise. Wrinkles touched his face, turning him from a boy to a man. His hair looked the same, and he was just as pale as he always was. But age undeniably graced his features_. How long has it been?_ Shaking his head, he carefully made his way down the broken stairs, paying no heed to the trail of blood upon them.

Merlin smiled as he walked into the sunlight, almost laughing at the warmth, the fresh air. The feel of soft grass beneath his feet, the green of the woods, the caress of a breeze across his numb skin. Birds sung melodies up above him, the light rays glancing off the smooth leaves and illuminating the world in a hazy glow. Entranced, he ventured further from the musty tower, stumbling through the woods, holding onto the ragged tree trunks to keep him on his feet.

The soft sound of water turned his face, and Merlin made his way past the trees to a small stream mumbling through the earth. A sparkle in his eyes, he outstretched his hand and called out with a scratchy, unpracticed voice.

"_Hors, beride tha heofinan_."

Clear fluid leapt from the lake, smoothly turning into the shape of a horse, galloping from the brook and into the sky. Merlin let out a loud laugh, falling to his knees as he watched the sun shine through the living water, reflecting a rainbow in the baby blue sky.

"Did you do that?"

Merlin jumped, turning around and seeing a man, a farmer maybe, wearing an orange tunic and brown breeches, with unassuming features and deep chestnut eyes and hair.

"Yes," the warlock replied softly, struggling to get to his feet. Rushing forward, the man helped him, all the while eyeing him curiously.

"Have we met before?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Merlin replied. "Why?"

"You look 'offly familiar," the man studied him more, taking in the raven hair, tall figure, ivory skin, sapphire eyes that had only just faded from the color of flame, sharp cheekbones, a rich red tunic made of fine fabric and soft leather boots. A character out of a frequently told story.

"No," he muttered. "You can't be?"

Merlin looked at him questioningly, opening his mouth to speak before the man's eyes widened.

"You…you're…are you…you're Emrys?" he stuttered.

The warlock smiled. "I prefer Merlin, but yes."

"But you… But you're cursed…You're asleep…have been for…for—"

"For how long?!"

The man was quiet before softly murmuring to the weak man he was supporting. "Thirteen years."

Merlin felt the air rush out of his chest. "Th-thirteen years?" he repeated softly, feeling dizzy. By now Aurora would have grown up…"I…I need to get to Camelot."

Nodding, the man helped him forward. "I have an extra horse, we can go there now. It's not too far."

The warlock nodded, and the pair slowly made their way to the man's cart. He unhooked the two horses leading it, and helped Merlin mount the old grey creature. Patting it gently on the neck, Merlin guided it into a gallop behind the farmer, the wind whistling in his ears, a pit of nervousness growing in his stomach. Thirteen years. How much had changed….

As they rode, Merlin didn't miss the looks he was receiving, or the pointed fingers. Aboard the grey horse, the ride bringing color to cheeks, he looked more like the Emrys they'd all heard of, his distinctive features difficult to miss.

News of their arrival must have traveled fast on whispered ears, because as Merlin approached the familiar city, more and more people lined the streets, all curiously looking at the men riding past.

Then he saw it.

White marble walls rebuilt ever taller, the magnificent citadel shining in the sun, towers topped with large, ivory banners embroidered with golden dragons. People were rushing in and out of the gates, the fields beyond the walls rich with wheat.

"Since your sleep, all Seven Kingdoms have joined in these thirteen years, an alliance with the Pendragons at their head. Districts ruled by their old monarchs but under the shade of Albion. Magic flourishes here. This is the world you built."

Merlin listened to him with silent awe, guiding his horse down the hill and towards the familiar gate. The streets of the city were teeming with people and shops, spring in full swing, and so the smell of flowers that eager merchants sold enriched the air with lilac, rose, and lavender. Colors were abundant, bright and bold and brilliant, and Merlin couldn't help but smile at the sight. And then there were the performers. A man draped in a rich silken tunic from a far off land blew a great fiery dragon from his lungs, and it soared above the peoples 'uninhibited delight. An elderly man with a long grey beard and pointed hat laughed merrily as he conjured sparkling butterflies for the children to chase after. A woman with long black hair called forth birds with a beautifully sung spell, letting them flit around her head, land on her shoulders, and sing their own merry tunes.

The man accompanying him smiled at Merlin's reaction to the city, but bid him forward. Together they made their way down the streets and towards the man courtyard, passing by white-clad knights who raced towards the citadel upon seeing the raven-haired man aboard the grey mare.

Then he was there, in that familiar courtyard, looking up at glistening marble steps. The farmer dismounted quickly and slowly helped Merlin off his horse, and just as the warlock's feet hit the firm ground, his eyes caught a scarlet-clad figure race down the stairs, gown held up tightly in her palms.

Gwenivere looked up at him with shock, eyes shining with tears as she caught sight of her friend. She froze, and right behind her, Arthur stumbled down the stairs, expression similar. Then Gwen ran towards him, damning the long tresses of her dress and racing towards him, jumping up into the warlock's waiting arms. Her hands tightened around him, Merlin breathless as the air was knocked from his lungs. He held her tightly, burying his head in the crook of her neck and breathing in her familiar scent. The warlock could feel her tears as she sobbed into his tunic.

Merlin pulled away gently, studying her grown face and wiping away a tear with a soft smile. He turned to where Arthur stood, waiting, looking his friend up and down.

"Merlin…?" the king choked.

"Who else, clotpole?"

Arthur shook his head at the man before him before taking two long strides and wrapping his arms around the thin man.

"How, but, how…?" the blonde-haired monarch asked as he released his friend, but the warlock only shrugged.

"I have no idea."

Arthur nodded. "Welcome back home, old friend."

Merlin smiled, looking up as Gwen called his name. On the stairs, in front of her, stood four children. They stared at him pale faced, surprise and curiosity touching their young features. The warlock's heart missed a beat. When he turned to Arthur, the king nodded with a smile, and Merlin almost laughed.

He walked towards the eldest girl, tall and blonde, with achingly familiar blue eyes.

"Aurora?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Uncle Emrys?"

Scoffing, the man before her smiled. "Just Merlin. My, how you've grown. The last time I saw you, you were a babe in your cri-"

The warlock was cut off as the young girl jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered to his frozen figure, and Merlin understood, returning her embrace.

When they parted, Gwen was crying. She walked forward, picking up her youngest daughter as she approached her old friend.

"This is Sara. The blonde is Jaime, and our youngest son…Merlin."

The warlock's eyes widened, looking down at the boy before him, who was eyeing his namesake with equal parts fascination and apprehension. Kneeling before him, Merlin extended his hand and let the boy shake it.

"Hello, Junior. I'm Merlin."

The boy nodded, and Merlin laughed at the look on his face. He ruffled the boy's hair before turning back to Arthur with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Well, _someone's_ been busy—"

He ducked as his friend tried to smack him, the warlock laughing loudly. With that, Gwenivere took her friend by the arm, leading him forward into the citadel and towards the room that had remained unchanged, waiting for him to return.

Merlin was finally home.

But that night, as he lay on the familiar bed, stretching his muscles after a grand feast spent equal time in tears and equal time in laughter, he could not fall asleep. A single thought haunted his mind, and when the castle went quiet, Merlin pulled on a worn tunic and britches, wrapping a black cloak around his shoulders, took a horse, and crept out of the city. He urged his mount into the woods, returning to his former prison, an uneasy pit in his stomach.

"_Forbearne_."

The warlock looked around, a bright flame cradled in his palm, searching for a sign. Anything.

Then he found it.

A small trickle of blood, a broken branch, heavy footprints leading deep into the dark woods.

* * *

She had collapsed deep in a gorge, next to a tall willow tree. Lying on her back, Morgana looked up at the inky sky, a velvety midnight studded with diamonds. They shined down upon her, a full moon illuminating everything in a silvery glow. The grass was soft under her aching body, the night warm, a cool breeze brushing her fevered skin. It was calm and quiet, the gently swaying of leaves lulling her to sleep.

As Morgana closed her eyes, she couldn't help but think that this wasn't such a bad way to die.

Then her bliss was interrupted by rough hands shaking her shoulders, a familiar voice screaming her name. She opened her faded green eyes curiously, looking at the ghost above her. Weakly, Morgana reached up and touched his face, smiling as his own palm kept hers there, leaning into her gentle touch. She felt warm tears fall on her broken face, and if Morgana could, she would tell him not to weep. _I'll be with you soon. I'm at peace._

Her ghost pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. His heartbeat shook her fragile bones, his breath shattered her delicate skin. Then he began to whisper foreign words, again and again and again, screaming in anger and frustration as nothing worked. Morgana couldn't hear him well, the world was faded and draped in darkness, and so she focused instead on her ghost's drumming heartbeat, even as he continued to murmur long into the hours of the night.

"_Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!"_

Morgana closed her eyes just as she saw a soft golden stream of light cradle her broken body, covering her with comforting warmth. She leaned her head into the ghost's chest and embraced unconsciousness.

* * *

Awareness was surprising as her body stirred on a soft surface. Warmth covered her from her toes to her chin, and Morgana could feel a gentle stream of sunlight on her trembling eyelids. Slowly opening her eyes, the sorceress took in the sight before her with simple thought in her mind.

_I should be dead._

But she wasn't. She was very much alive. Her quavering lungs told her with every shuddering breath. Eyes were watching her, she was sure of that, the hairs at the back of her neck informing her of a familiar presence. A ghost that wasn't a ghost at all.

Scanning the room, she took in the sight of light wooden walls, a small cozy atmosphere. But her eyes could meet nothing else as they met his. The two looked at each other, gaze unbroken as they chanced upon the other after so many years.

"What did you do?" Her voice was scratchy, and she struggled to a seated position, leaning against the worn wooden headboard of the bed.

"I saved your life."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

Morgana looked down at her hands, at the bruises that told the tale of her imprisonment. She was wearing a clean, simple cotton dress, so she supposed he knew everything by now. The scars could tell the story better than she ever could.

"You shouldn't have."

"You were ready to die?"

"Yes."

"But I wasn't ready for that."

"Why?" she asked again.

Merlin sighed, standing from his position on the rocking chair on the other side of the room. She flinched as he sat on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his own, matching her half-hostile, half-fearful gaze with a reassuring look.

"Because I still love you and I still think you can be saved."

Morgana's lip quivered as she looked up at him, then, lifting her hand from his grip, she smacked him hard across the face. His head swung back, palm jumping to his cheek in surprise. But, being so weak, the blow didn't even leave a mark.

"Mor—"

"How dare you?" she spat. "How dare you still love me after all I've done? I never truly took you for a fool, Emrys, but it seems I was wrong. I cursed you for thirteen years, allowed your friends' children to grow up without you, and robbed your time from you. And still you profess love. You embarrass me! I do not need to be saved, especially not by you."

Merlin's gaze hardened at her words. "Then tell me, why am I here? Why am I awake? Answer me this and I'll leave, never to return."

"I don't know. "

The warlock's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

Morgana looked anywhere but his furious eyes, answering with a small voice. "I was…I was delirious. I just said goodbye, I never thought you would wake. I never thought it would work—"

"True love's kiss," he snapped. "It wouldn't work if the feeling wasn't mutual. Morgana, please, I am offering you a chance at redemption. You've been through enough. Give up your claim to the throne, disappear, stay with me. No one needs to know. Arthur has legalized magic and it flourishes in this land. He is not his father. Leave his kingdom be. We can start again. Please."

"Redemption is no longer an option, not after all I've done."

Merlin's face crumpled the look of a man who desperately clung to hope but recognized when it began to slip away. "My mother once told me a story many years ago. There was a man. He stole, cheated, and lied through life. It's said he killed ninety-nine people. One night, he looked at his life and felt saddened, ashamed, and embarrassed. He didn't want to die this way. And so he went to a wise man, and asked if he could ever be redeemed. The wise man spat back that he could not, that he was appalled at the very idea that this man could ask for forgiveness after so many sins. And so the man killed him, bringing his body count to a hundred souls. Disgusted with himself, he traveled his country in the wilderness until he chanced across a high priest of the Old Religion. Again he asked if he could be redeemed, and the priest, much to the man's surprise, said yes. He told the man to leave, journey to another land across the ocean, and start anew. When he stepped on the new soil, he could be forgiven. The man thanked the priest and hitched a ride on a ship to that promised place, heart bursting. But just before he made it to the shore, he fell dead. They say that there was a storm that night—The Old Goddess battling with the reaper to claim his soul instead of damn it. There was sunlight the next morning, so they say she won, and the man was forgiven.

"When do you pass the point of redemption? No one has the answer. All we know is that forgiveness can be found even to those of the cruelest souls, but only if they make an attempt at it. Redemption is yours, Morgana. No one is trying to deny you of it. You need only ask, and let go of the darkness you've chosen to hold close to your heart."

"But how? You don't know Arthur like I do, " she whispered. "The arrogant blonde boy who used to bully everyone around him because he felt this sense of entitlement. No one ever denied it when he asked if he was special. He was the golden child, born and trained to fight and lead. As for me, the beloved king's ward, I used to delight in watching in heads turn as I walked through the room. But that was all I was. An ornament. A stained glass ornament in a cold stone castle. Perhaps it was my long stay in there, trapped in those cold unfeeling walls, that turned me to ice."

Merlin leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, his touch warm and comforting. "I can melt it. Let me try."

She looked up at him, shaking her head with disbelief. Then Morgana wrapped her arms around him. And as she pulled him closer, she thought about how remarkable love was. Capable of so much. Without it, there couldn't be the hate that leads to agony and despair, a life of hostility and terror. Without the light it brings, there could be no darkness, for darkness is merely the absence of light as hate is merely the absence of love. It is strange, love. Such a small word capable of so much, tethered in darkness, leading armies, destroying armies, and raising them anew. It could survive wars, time, even death. It's a feeling that can hardly be captured in a word, let alone a paragraph, not even a long novel filled with thousands and millions of words, not even with all those letters could you describe it. And in many ways that is sad, for few can feel it in whole, but many feel its absence, a loss sometimes they cannot even recognize. It's a strange thing, love, a strange and terrible thing yet beautiful despite it all. And with those thoughts teeming in her consciousness, she pulled her lover close and was lost in his light.

* * *

_Five years later._

* * *

Arthur aimed the crossbow, focusing down the shaft and onto the white doe before him. It was a beautiful creature with a pelt the color of shimmering moonlight, long graceful legs, and eyes like clear pools. Hunters everywhere had tried to no avail to slay it, and now the king aimed his weapon, victory sweet on his dry tongue, arms taunt. Then a young feminine voice interrupted his concentration.

"You shouldn't do that."

Before he could turn to see to whom the voice belonged, the doe perked her ears and caught sight of who would have been her killer before bounding through the trees and escaping from Arthur's sight. Sighing, the king turned around.

"Sweet lady, it seems you have robbed me of the prize of many weeks hun—"

Arthur froze. A young girl looked up at him, beautiful and slight. She couldn't be over four, and yet had within her a grace the king had never seen before in a child. Long raven hair flowed in tender curls down her body to the small of her black, a soft halo around her ivory skin and elfin features. Wearing a light green dress, she looked like she'd walked from the trunk of one of the trees, feet bare. An ebony raven with a crown of white feathers on its head was perched on her shoulder, eyeing him with a fair gaze, so still that it could be mistaken for a statue.

The king coughed, eyes caught in the young girl's strangely calm and confident gaze. "And why shouldn't I have killed the doe?"

"Because she's a creature of the Old Wood, a daughter of the Old Religion. It is said that the silver doe harbors great power, and any who fell her invoke the wrath of the priestess…well, at least that's what Mama says." Her voice was like a clear bell, tinkling and light. Arthur couldn't help but smile at her words, not surprised by her large vocabulary. It seemed to fit her.

"Your mother seems to know a lot about these things."

"Yes, she does," she cocked her head to the side, the raven mimicking her movements uncannily. "You look like someone from one of her stories. A golden king. Do you want me to tell you the story?"

"I'd be honored," Arthur smiled down at her, watching in amusement as she took him by the hand.

"I need to be home for supper soon," the young girl explained. "So I'll tell you the story on the way there.

"Once upon a time, there lived a golden king. He had hair the color of the sun and eyes the hue of the sky that housed it. From a young age, he learned to fight until he was the best knight in the kingdom. Living by the code and even adding onto it, the golden prince turned into a king when his father passed away. Then he won a great war and became the greatest king the land has ever known, ruling with a beautiful queen by his side and creating the kingdom we now live in. The end. "

Arthur laughed. "It's a very beautiful story."

"Mama tells it better, but I don't have time to add all the details to it because we've reached my house. Do you want to come in for supper? I don't think Mama will mind."

The king looked out to where the young girl was pointing. It was a beautiful cottage in the middle of a glade, surrounded by wildflowers that grew almost the height of the roof.

"I'm afraid I also have to go back to have supper with my family, but perhaps sometime soon, sweet lady. Thank you for your wisdom."

The young girl smiled and curtsied. "Please come soon. No one ever comes here. Farewell, golden king."

She began to skip away before Arthur woke from his stupor, calling out after her. "What is your name, little one?"

"Anna," she replied with a light voice, dancing down through the wildflowers and towards her home. Just as Arthur turned to leave, a familiar voice stopped him and robbed him of breath.

"Darling, it's time for supper!"

"I'm here, Mama!"

Morgana leaned over and brushed her daughter's hair back, kissing her on the forehead. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yes. I met a golden king in the woods!"

"Is that so?"

"Mmmhmmm!"

The willowy woman laughed. "You can tell me all about it during supper. Go in and wash up."

Just before Anna crossed the threshold, Morgana's voice stopped her.

"No, little lady. You know the rule. You may be the raven's darling but that doesn't mean he's allowed to sit with us during supper."

"But, Mama! Papa always says that animals—"

"I don't care what your father said, you know the rules."

"Fine," Anna sighed, whispering something to the raven on her shoulder and watching it fly away and land on a wildflower before the door.

"Good girl, off you go." Morgana pushed her daughter into the cottage, stopping before joining her. The woman looked around the glade, searching through the dark trees. Arthur ducked behind the nearest trunk, robbed of breath. When he dared take a risk, his sister was walking into her home.

Arthur found his horse at the edge of the wood and galloped back to the city, anger swelling with every breath. The king couldn't chase the image of her from his mind. She looked so different from the last time he had seen her, edges gentled, dressed in a simple dress, body soft and curvy under the deep blue fabric. From the moment he'd set eyes on the young girl, he'd known, somehow, that she was Morgana's. She looked just like his sister when she was young, except for one haunting detail.

Terribly familiar sapphire eyes.

He hurried through the halls of the citadel, slamming open the great doors to the throne room.

Gwenivere stopped mid-sentence as she looked up at him, surprised. All the council members and knights were seated at the round table with her, all staring up at him.

"Good, Arthur. I was afraid you wouldn't make it—"

"Everyone, get out," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the man seated next to his wife.

"Arthur—"

"GET OUT!"

Chairs scraped on the floor in a hurried rush to leave, no one daring to meet his eyes. Gwenivere passed him with a confused glance at her husband and friend, closing the door behind her and leaving the two men alone.

Merlin stood as Arthur approached him. "I can explain—"

The warlock stumbled backwards as the blow landed on his jaw, backing away as Arthur continued forward.

"Damn, you Pendragons are violent when you get angry—"

"You'll never guess who I met in the forest today."

Merlin stiffened as Arthur shoved him against a column, hand gripping the cloth around his collar tightly.

"A young girl with beautiful blue eyes and a strangely intelligent demeanor. Her, and of course, my sister."

"Arthur—"

"IS SHE YOURS?!"

Merlin looked down, not meeting Arthur's gaze. "Yes."

The king's eyes widened, letting his friend go and backing up, hand on his temple. Merlin touched his jaw, wincing at the already growing bruise.

"Why?"

"I had to protect my family—"

"From those who are your family?"

Merlin's eyes hardened, shoulders straightening. "What would you have done? Morgana is a fugitive, and thought to be dead. I couldn't walk into Camelot with her on my arm and not risk the fury of the people—"

"But you could have told me! SHE'S MY SISTER, MERLIN! AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD! And you had a daughter and I never knew. You've been living an entirely secret life. How did you do it? How could you keep it hidden for so long without letting anything slip?"

"Lancelot and Gaius know. Gaius because I needed help with Morgana's pregnancy, and Lancelot because he suspected something and followed me home one night. I swore them both to secrecy. Believe me, Arthur. I wanted to tell you from the first night I found Morgana, but I was afraid. I couldn't let her be taken away from me, not again. "

Arthur sighed, walking over and putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "When Morgana cast the curse on Aurora, I was devastated. But when Gwenivere read me your letter that night, I couldn't breathe. I brought our best trackers and followed your trail; however, when I arrived I was too late. And I've had to live with that since that night. You're my brother, Merlin, and that you've had to walk around, fearing for your family's life with me, appalls me. You know how much you mean to Gwenivere and me."

"I know, Arthur, I know. But this is Morgana we're talking about. The last time you saw her she tried to kill your daughter, hell bent on destroying your kingdom. I couldn't—"

Arthur shook his head. "I understand."

Falling silent, Merlin looked down at his hands awkwardly.

"She's beautiful. Anna."

The warlock smiled softly. "Thank you. She's turning five in a month, but she already talks like an adult. Morgana thinks she's gifted."

"I think she is," Arthur replied with a laugh. "Does she have magic?"

"Too much," Merlin joked. "I'm having trouble keeping up with her."

"Can I see them again? I understand if you're still not comfortable, or if Morgana—"

"No, it's all right. You should meet them. She's your niece after all."

Arthur smiled, ruffling his friend's hair. "Look who's all grown up."

Merlin jerked back from his friend's grip, scowling, before his expression turned fearful. "Now I'm going to have to tell Gwenivere…"

"I don't envy you, my friend. You think _I_ was angry?"

* * *

It was bright the next afternoon when they set out, sun shining down over the party as they made their way into the shade of the forest. Merlin rode at the head, showing them through the different sigils he kept to ward away unfriendly eyes, Arthur and Gwenivere behind him with their children looking wide eyed around them. They had been told who they were to meet, but still they struggled to put a face to the demon of many of their bedtime stories.

They rode out into the glade, and though it was silent, Merlin knew Morgana would be inside with Anna, nerves eating her until she heard a knock on the door.

"Wait here," he said softly, leaving the Pendragons as he went to his home. The door opened and they could see him speaking with someone for a moment, until he moved out of the way and allowed them to see who they had come to meet.

Morgana was eyeing them with slight apprehension, hand gripped tightly to her daughter's. She wore a beautiful emerald dress, hair falling down her shoulders like that of her daughter in soft waves. It was if she was the same Morgana they had first met so many years ago. Gwen took a quick intake of breath as she saw them, but soon a smile lifted on her lips.

The queen approached the pair slowly, both woman eyeing each other hesitantly. It was Anna who spoke, letting go of her mother's hand and walking towards the beautiful caramel queen.

"Hello."

"Hello," Gwen replied, smiling. "You must be Anna."

"And you must be the Queen Gwenivere. Papa and Mama always said you were beautiful but I thought they were just being nice."

The queen laughed at the young girl before her, eyes lighting up at her similarity to her friend. "You're very sweet." Gwen turned to Morgana. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Morgana replied, and the two friends stared at each other for some time before embracing slowly, arms tightening around each other.

"I'm sorry, Gwen."

"Hush now, it's all in the past."

The two women separated and Morgana was led forward to her brother, who only kissed her brow before introducing her to his children. Merlin watched as the family reunited, his nervousness passing as smiles were exchanged and laughter rung throughout the glade.

Late that evening, with everyone sitting around the fire telling stories, Merlin excused himself to get a drink of water from within the cabin, Gwen joining him.

"Hey," Gwenivere whispered, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. It's...just a bit strange after all these years, being together again."

"Yes. Time is the balm of all wounds. The scars might still be there, but soon they too will fade."

Merlin smiled. "And so it seems our story will end as we thought it would when Arthur and Morgana first arrived in Glendale. The four of us, together…with a few additions, of course." The warlock looked out at the fire, watching as his wife and friend engaged their children in a funny story, their laughter filling the glade with warmth. Aithusa was purring and gurgling as Gwen's youngest scratched the scales beneath her jaw, her dilated pupils alive with pleasure. Anna's raven had perched on the dragon's growing horn, feathers fluffed as it regarded Merlin with intelligent, inquisitive eyes.

"We've come a long way," the warlock whispered, wrapping his arm around Gwen's shoulder.

The queen smiled. "We have. But, my dear magical farmboy, this is hardly an ending, merely the start of a new beginning."

* * *

Nothing is ever simply black or white. Between the stark contrasts lie the shades the world lives in, a grey, never-ending twilight that forces us to question and wonder and change. Never has there ever existed someone with a heart of pure darkness, just as never has there ever existed someone with a heart of pure light. It is in the nature of humanity and the universe to hate and love, to betray and trust, to laugh and cry. Without those swaying passions, and without the pain accompanying them, one can never truly know if they are really feeling with all they have. To love someone is the equivalent of hate. It's a constant back and forth, a lust and need that seems never to satisfy itself, a hunger to feel emotion in its purest state. Sometimes it's a state of joy and wonder and good, but sometimes it's bitter and hard and painful. However, it is only in those moments when you miss someone-when you hate them for what they have done to you- that you know that you harbored true emotion towards them, that they were not a simple passerby you were fated to forget. This is the nature of love. It's not all happiness and love and light, and it is not all darkness and lust and hate. Love is that twilight in-between, and it's under those grey and blue skies that lovers have lived, live, and will love until they leave the words of forgotten pages, bound in scarlet covers.

THE END

**So. yeah. That's it. Phew *wipes sweat from brow*. This has been the first story I've ever written seriously, and I've enjoyed like no other. I thought I'd tire of writing the same story for a whole year, but I didn't. My ideas never ran out, to which I am grateful. I did my best to make it unique and not the typical fic you run across, and hopefully I was successful! It's remarkable and I've felt amazing doing it. I hope you guys had fun too!**

**Basically, I want to thank you all. To everyone who spent all this time laboring away at this monster of a fic. You're the reason I felt like writing every week, not to mention you've given me a huge ego boost with all your kind words. I'm updating this at midnight so gahhhhh I really am not eloquent at the moment. So thank you thank you thank you is all I can say, for all your support and your continued positive attitude. Thank you especially to those of you who reviewed (I'll be sending you you're own messages soon (prepare for a novel of love)). **

**Above all, I'd like to thank Merlyn. She's been my beta this whole time, and she's actually magnificent. I could always rely on her for help, she fixed all the grammar mistakes, and helped me with so much. She's the grand mastermind behind this whole ordeal. She's a remarkable writer, so check out all her things they are amaaaaazing! Without her You wouldn't have enjoyed the story like you did, and I wouldn't have enjoyed writing it like I did. SO ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO MY REMARKABLE BETA FOR ALL HER HARD WORK!**

**AND A STANDING OVATION TO ALL OF YOU AND A GRAND THANK YOU FOR READING THIS, WHETHER YOU STARTED FROM THE FIRST DAY, OR HAVE JUST READ IT IN ONE NIGHT! I THANK YOU ALL EQUALLY AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO VERY MUCH!**

**I hope I can hear from you now that it's the end, just drop by and say goodbye, and I would love some criticism or tips for the next story I'm sure to write eventually, be it original or fanfiction! Two words is enough by dears. **

**THANK YOU IT HAS BEEN A BLAST**

**(takes a bow)**

**-ladywarlock **


End file.
